Flynn Wanted
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: The course of true love never did run smooth, but for them it seems to be in knots.
1. The Crime

I always swore I'd go back to Disney after my Mulan fic, and what goes around has finally come around. I loooove Tangled and a small tingle of an idea grew to a fairly significant chaptered fic, which is how these things tend to go. I can't decide on the genre, so let's call it adventure with a lot of drama, or a drama with a fair bit of adventure to it.

The title is based off a song on the Tangled OST which is beautiful and everyone should own.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

_~1~  
><em>

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><p><em>Doors<em>, as far as Eugene Fitzherbert is concerned, are highly overrated – everyone uses doors. They're dull, unimaginative and clearly unworthy an entrance for a hero such as himself.

That, and they often have guards outside them, or near them, or patrolling past them; considering he is sneaking around a place he definitely should _not _be in the middle of the the night, it's enough to set any sane-minded individual on edge. So he's pretty keen on avoiding both doors and the guards that lurk nearby.

Instead, he crams his hands and feet into spaces far too small for them, finding holds between stones on the palace wall. The chill of the coming winter numbs him, and he struggles through the pain, nearly losing his grip more times than he cares to count as he hauls himself up the tower. He's climbed too far to turn back now, and is _definitely _too high up to even think about looking down. So he keeps his eyes on the star-pitted sky, and pushes to the back of his mind all the imaginary sequences of falling and flick-flacking all the way down to the cold, hard ground.

At last – at long, _long _last – he makes it to the top, wraps his corpse-cold fingers around the edge of a small balcony, and heaves himself up over the balustrade. It's not exactly heroic, the way he slumps into a quivering heap on the tiles, shaking with the cold and adrenaline, but he's alive and it has been proven that's what counts. He sags like a burned out lantern, panting steam into the night air, while warm, golden light pours over him through a set of glass-paned doors. From inside, a slim figure silhouettes across the doorway, pauses, and then the panels burst open.

"Eugene!" cries Rapunzel, and before he even has time to speak, his arms are full of girl. He breaks into a smile as he catches her, holds the no-longer-lost princess close.

"Heeey," he lilts, attempting to fold her mess of arms and legs into an orderly state – always an uphill battle. She eventually curls half-across his lap, loops her arms around his neck, and at the risk of sounding cliché, he'd happily keep her there forever.

"I can't believe you climbed all the way up here _again_," she cajoles, but still sounds very glad that he did. Each time he braves the life-threatening climb up to her room, he swears it's the last, but here he is, and chances are he'll be back again.

"Neither can I," he replies with a slight wheeze, brushing his icicle fingers slowly up her side, allowing the sensation to slowly return with her warmth. It hasn't been more than a day since they saw one another, but it's been several since they had any privacy. Although Eugene is an ex-criminal, he isn't amoral, he does _understand_ the laws, he just doesn't always abide by them them.

So he can see _how _climbing up the walls late at night to be alone with the Kingdom's most treasured princess might be against the rules – he's even clearer on the amount of trouble he'd be in if they got caught – but it's worth it a hundred times over, if it gives him the chance to do what he's about to do.

Reaching out a hand to her face, he lays his cool palm against her warm cheek, his fingertips just sitting on her hairline, and draws her into a kiss. She tightens her grip around his neck and gives back just as good as she gets – she always has.

However, she soon notices his frigid hands, and pulls away suddenly, on her feet before he can so much as close his mouth, let alone open it again to object. He has absolutely no idea how she manages to move so quickly; tracking her movements is like trying to watch a butterfly beat its wings.

"You're freezing!" she declares, and seizes him by the collar. "Come inside, I've got a fire going."

Eugene tenses up at once – although he's been up to the balcony a good few times, he's never set foot across the doorway, and with good reason. If someone were to surprise the treasured princess in her bedroom, at least if he's on the balcony he can drop over the side without being noticed; however, if he's actually _inside_, there isn't much time to hide from any potential guards, family or servants who feel like dropping in to see their beloved Rapunzel – all of whom would _not_ take to his presence there very well.

Whether he's the saviour and love interest of the princess or not, he knows that he might as well bring his own rope for the hanging if he got caught alone in her bedroom; impropriety isn't even the word for it – treachery would be closer on the scale – so if he wants to stick by the girl he's fallen head-over-heels for so many times it's a miracle he isn't permanently dizzy, he knows he has to at least _appear _to play by the rules. He needs to court her correctly, and climbing up her tower late at night to steal kisses in secret isn't hot on the list of acceptable practices.

"Ehh– I'm not so sure if that's a good..." he begins, but for a girl who looks like she could blow away in strong wind, Rapunzel has a surprising amount of strength in her little frame.

"Relax, everyone's asleep already," she says nonchalantly, and pushes open the doors without the slightest semblance of worry. The weather is turning colder now, which seems to have unwittingly sealed his fate, and he is guiltily welcoming of the warm rush of air from inside.

"Look, seriously... I really shouldn't," he protests. As well as the dangers of being caught in her bedroom, there is also the issue of being in her bedroom, alone... with _her_. He's as much of a man as the next fellow, and doesn't need to be given any more ideas than he already has.

"It's just not – I mean, I'd _love _to but... you know, what with you being a princess and... I'm not sure it's a– Right... okay," he relents pathetically, his best efforts collapsing like a card house as she drags him inside and sits him down by a sickeningly picturesque fire. He knows that all hell would break loose if he was caught, and he probably wouldn't see Rapunzel again – not like this, at least – for a _long _time.

However, as much as the rational, freaking-out side of his mind protests, its counterpart has a warm fire, comfy chair and the girl of his dreams close at hand; it is perfectly content, and not planning to go anywhere in a hurry.

"Now, isn't that better?" she challenges, propping a hand on her hip and cocking an eyebrow at him; reluctantly he nods, albeit while casting an edgy look over his shoulder. Eventually – when the door doesn't fly open to reveal half the King's guard ready to haul him straight to the gallows – he relaxes, and takes the chance to look around her room.

He guesses it must be the place meant for her as a baby, judging by the suspicious amount of toys strewn around. When he looks up, he sees some more recent additions, her painted murals, which crawl across the ceiling and flow down the walls. In the flickering of the firelight, they almost look alive.

"Wow," he admires. "You painted all of these?"

"Uh-huh," she answers, green eyes dazzling with pride. She's new to people noticing her art – or _anything _she does – and even less used to being complimented for it. "Paintings make me feel more at home. It just... doesn't seem like my room without them."

Eugene silently understands; regardless of the way things turned out, she did still live for eighteen years – and for the most part happily – in Gothel's tower. That small space was her entire world, and there's no way she can leave all of it behind without abandoning a part of herself.

"Seriously, they're amazing," he says quietly, hardly even registering he's talking at all, awed past the point of eloquence. Each piece of the mural is its own tiny masterpiece, impossible to take in as a whole; some parts are made up of wild, impressionistic daubs and slashes of colour, others sketched out to the tiniest detail, down to every feather on a bird's wing.

Then he spies a picture almost directly above her bed, slightly more defined than the rest. It's of familiar structure, a tall slender tower, and an even more familiar figure scaling it.

"Now, who's that handsome devil up there?" he asks suavely, dropping his grin into a sultry, smouldering smirk, and Rapunzel's cheeks colour as she realises exactly what he's talking about.

"_Eugeeene_," she says shyly, squeezing her fingers together as her eyes try to settle anywhere but his face. He chuckles, and then lets her off the hook, craning his neck to examine the rest of the room; she's cute when embarrassed, but slightly less so when beating her tiny fists against his head for teasing her too much.

"You''ll have to paint my portrait some time," he concludes at last, striking a pose as he props his chin on his fist and gives her the infamous smoulder; Rapunzel decides to herself that she'll paint him with a goofy expression he apparently has no idea he makes.

"Maybe I will," she replies enigmatically, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other; it isn't deliberate, but draws his attention all the same. There's only one armchair in the room – there shouldn't _need _to be more than one in the princess's bedroom – and he currently occupies it.

"You wanna sit? Come on then," he tempts her, and holds out a coaxing hand; Rapunzel lets herself be led onto his lap, curling up on top of him like a doormouse, arms wrapped around ankles, by which point it feels like there isn't enough room in Eugene's chest for his heart any more. She seems tiny coiled up and tucked away into the crook of his arm, but he knows all too well how quickly she can unfurl and turn into a sprawling mess of limbs, with twice as many hands and feet as she reasonably ought to have. When she turns her head, her hair tickles his face, so he presses closer til his nose and mouth are against her neck – of which he is not complaining.

"I really shouldn't be here, you know," he warns guiltily, moving against her skin so his voice hums against her throat

"Mhm," she mumbles inattentively, squeezing herself further into the non-space between his torso and arm, like she can tuck herself into his pocket if she tries hard enough.

"No really," he mutters, and somehow a kiss finds its way to the space just below her ear. "I could..." Another kiss, this time a little further down her neck. "...get in..." Another kiss. "Serious trouble if..." One more, and then she breaks only seconds before he would have, and her mouth crushes against his – that is, until he hears something that sounds to his mind suspiciously like footsteps outside the door.

"_Ohfortheloveof-justasIwasgetting–" _he babbles in a single, unintelligible sentence and leaps from the chair, hurling Rapunzel off his lap in the process and throwing himself across the room to skid-dive underneath her bed, all while making furious shushing sounds.

"Yeowch!" yelps Rapunzel as she tumbles to the floor. "Eugene! Do you _mind_," she berates, only to find herself addressing only the whites of his eyes, as they peer out from under her bed.

"Shhhhhhhh!" he hisses. "Iet-quay on the ame-nay."

"What? Oh calm down, there's no one here," she huffs in exasperation, and then storms over to the door and unceremoniously rips it open. There's nothing behind it, and Eugene's eyes blink disbelievingly a few times. The noise wasn't anything more exciting than the nocturnal creatures in the old castle's rafters. "You probably just heard rats under the floorboards," she points out, trying to assuage his fears.

"Ohh," Eugene gasps, and heaves a deep sigh; however, it only takes one lungful of dust and floorboard smell before he realises just where he's putting his face. "Eugh!" he yelps, scrambling out from under the bed and brushing himself down compulsively.

Rapunzel simply laughs, and shuts the door again. He follows her and resettles in the chair; she perches on the arm instead, her bare feet balancing on his knee. It isn't often they get the chance to be totally alone, so it can be a little overwhelming when they are. Sometimes it's better to maintain a little space, or they can get too easily carried away. It's only Eugene's abject fear of getting caught that keeps them in line at times, as it appears to miss Rapunzel completely.

He doesn't expect her to share his peril, though; she is still too young and impulsive – finally unleashed on the world she has hungered for, greedy for everything she can grab from it. She doesn't fully understand the way the world is yet; if she had _her_ way, she'd piggy-back ride him around the palace, hike up her dress and sit on his shoulders to see over crowds, and kiss him_ when-_ and _where_ver she damn well pleased – and while he'd like nothing more, he knows better, and will stop her if she endeavours to try. Because he is a little older, and a _lot_ more experienced, he has to take responsibility for them both sometimes.

As a former wanted criminal, he has to tread the line so carefully he could moonlight as a tightrope walking act. One slip-up on the wrong side of proprietary with _The _Princess and he can kiss goodbye the chance to ever kiss her goodbye – and he wants more than sneaking around stealing affection, hiding under her bed and feeling his heart clear-stop every time he hears a sound. However, even though he wants it _all – _and he could probably have it, if he asked the right question – he holds back, because he refuses to take her from one tower just to put her into another.

Rapunzel is used to having only _one_ person in her life, one single all-encompassing relationship that her whole world revolves around – her tower was emotional, as well as physical, and he can feel her seeking out that familiarity again. She wants that safety, letting one person whom she loves unconditionally look after her, protect her from the rest of the world; of course, she likes to leave, but it is where she wants to come home to, and he_ will not_ let her.

Because it doesn't really matter how different he and Gothel are if the end result is the same; if he is just going to become a replacement in the same closed system. So he won't give her what she wants, because she needs something greater – the chance to be free. And she needs it far more than he needs her.

They sit by the fire and talk; he regales her with tales of his stupid youth, an entire history of bad decisions and getting into trouble, seeing and exploring the world with his own eyes and hands, almost losing both in the process. She reads obsessively, and often tells him of things she's learned from the magnificent palace library – he has little education to speak of, so often she's teaching him – but he never feels stupid in her presence, because he talks to her about _being _there, not just reading about it.

He promises to take her away to see it all, but he also tells her to go without him, has sometimes _insisted _that she go away with the King and Queen, leaving him behind. Sure, he doesn't like to be apart any more than she does, but she deserves a life outside of him – outside of _anyone_. He encourages her to be independent, to be her _own_ person and not an attachment to anyone else – the King and Queen's _daughter_, the Kingdom's _Princess_, even his _lover_. She needs to be Rapunzel – only.

He is in effect, cooling off his own romance just at the stage where he wants to be heating it up, but he tells himself that just being around her is enough. Even if it isn't.

He tells himself there are more important things at stake, that he will fight for her right to be free – even if it means fighting _himself. _Even if it means resisting the urge to sweep her off her feet and kiss her senseless every minute and a half. Well, most of the time at least – he never claims to be perfect.

The night is a painfully short one, and dawn bleaches the sky too soon for them to say and do all the things they want to; Eugene wearily, reluctantly rises from his seat. His eyes tingle, and a dull throbbing in his head tells him he needs desperately to sleep, but these are the only hours he doesn't risk being discovered, even out on the balcony.

"I really oughta get going..." he groans, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. He wanders outside to the balcony and looks over, wobbles a little, and then leans back against the rail, breathing the damp smell of the gardens as it carries up on the morning breeze.

"Hold on," Rapunzel rushes, hopping to her feet with more energy than she should rightfully have; although there are tell-tale dark circles under her eyes, she's still bright and bouncy as a sparrow, pattering over to the cupboard and running back out with her arms full of hair.

It didn't seem right to leave all eighty foot of Rapunzel's hair in the tower, in spite of its lacking magical qualities any more, so she and Eugene brought back. Then to stop it tangling and make for easy storage, she and some uniformed accomplices braided it tightly, the end product a long and ludicrously strong rope. She has been known to be seen swinging from the palace's highest tower on the thing, much to the despair of Eugene and her parents, who regard her fearless daredevilism with heart-stopping worry.

"Here you go," she says perkily, slinging her hair around one of the pillars to the balcony, then kicking off one end so that it spirals all the way down to the ground and lands with a dull thud. Eugene climbs over the ledge and steps a foot through one of the tightly-bound loops at either end of the rope, then grips the other ready to slide down. Finally, from the other side of the balustrade, Rapunzel puts both hands up to his face and pulls him close. They kiss for as long as possible – or stop as soon as they're able to, the two being more or less the same, and part reluctantly.

"Til next time, princess," he breathes softly, pulling her back for one last peck, and then drops off the ledge, abseiling toward the ground and waving up at her with his free hand.

She watches him all the way down, until both feet are safely on the ground, and only when she sees him darting through the castle gardens does she allow herself to go back inside.

She yawns almost theatrically as she slowly crosses over to her bed, and falls face-down into the covers, slowly rolling onto her back and kicking herself under the blankets. She looks up to her ceiling, to the spot right above her bed where she painted the tower and Eugene climbing it; she put it there for a reason – it's the last thing she sees before she falls asleep.

When a furious knocking rouses the princess only a few hours later, she's less than welcoming of the disturbance, and wakes with a scowl. Bleary eyed and feeling as if she only closed put down her head five minutes ago, she stumbles to the door, grumpily tugs it half-open. On the other side stands her mother, looking similarly rumpled in her bedroom gown, but that isn't what she notices – what she notices is the fear and sadness in the eyes so like her own.

"Mom?"she questions: always mom, never mother – _mother _was someone else, someone who was thankfully never coming back.

"Darling, it's... I don't know how to tell you," says her mother, her voice soft and still hoarse from sleep. A cold stone drops in Rapunzel's stomach; she imagines all of the terrible things that could have happened to Eugene in the few hours since he left her sight – imagines all of the them happening _simultaneously_.

"_What?_" she pleads, throwing open the door and grabbing her mother's hands, crushing them in hers as she tries to swallow the lump in her throat, though it won't budge. There are plenty of other things that could merit bad news, but Rapunzel instinctively knows it is about Eugene, and her heart feels like its being shredded. "What is it?"

"Last night," her mother begins solemnly, finally raising her emerald eyes up to her daughter's face. "Last night... Flynn Rider committed a terrible crime."

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><p>To be continued, of course...<p> 


	2. The Charge

And here's the new chapter! I don't know how fast I'm going to be able to update this really, I have a lot of backlog, but a fair amount of it needs fairly time-consuming editing work, so I'm just gonna update whenever possible, really.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

_~2~  
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><p>The Queen knew Rapunzel by her eyes. For all the times she imagined finding her baby again, all the different ways she pictured her daughter eighteen years on, the one thing that was always the same was the eyes. <em>Their<em> eyes; sharp green and unmistakable.

So when she met with a barefooted girl outside the palace, snags of wild brown hair at all angles – nothing like her baby's hair – and clinging to the arm of one of the Kingdom's most notorious criminals... well, she had her doubts, not least because it was too great a risk to hope.

But when she looked into the girl's eyes, she _knew_.

She searches her daughter's eyes now, reaches for a sign of how she's taking the news – the news that Flynn Rider has returned to the Kingdom, that the man she loves and trusts more than any other has broken his word, done what he promised he'd never do.

"The Captain of the Guard is talking with your father," she explains delicately, "but he told us that last night... Flynn Rider burgled and then gravely injured a Judge."

"What?" Rapunzel questions, her forehead creasing. "But... that can't be right." The Queen keeps hold of her child's hands, squeezes them consolingly. While she and her husband were forever grateful for the return of their daughter, it'd be a lie to say her choice of companion-come-suitor was entirely what they'd imagined.

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I know this must be a lot for you to..."

"But when?" demands Rapunzel. "Where? _How_?" Her yelling rouses Pascal, who turns visible on the ledge of the door frame and then drops onto the princess's shoulder so suddenly the Queen nearly jumps out of her skin. She blinks heavily, checking that she is quite definitely awake and not dreaming – though the the accusatory looks of an unnervingly anthropomorphic chameleon don't help.

However, she knows it _is_ real, no matter how much Rapunzel might wish it wasn't. Though her daughter introduced her saviour as _Eugene, _a man of his notoriety was too infamous to escape recognition, and the Queen is heartbroken the news wasn't more of a disappointment. Flynn Rider, as they knew him, had a long history of crime to account for, and an even longer line of men eager to see him pay for it.

She and her husband, overwhelmed with having their daughter back, hadn't the heart to see the man who returned their baby punished. So when Rapunzel vouched for Eugene's circumstances and reformation, they were happy to accept her plea; with the agreement of the Kingdom's chief judges, Eugene Fitzherbert was allowed a full pardon.

Yet, news of his crime does not come as too much of surprise – the dark, pessimistic worry was always there, and now she's had the misfortune to see it fulfilled. The Queen wonders if they made a mistake allowing him to carry on with Rapunzel the way he has, if maybe they just prolonged an inevitable heartbreak. Even though she and the King honestly liked the young man, they understood his past was a lot to overcome – it may have already proven unsurpassable.

"I heard only a few details," she tells Rapunzel with resignation, and the little chameleon on her shoulder pales. "Only that Judge Gable has been gravely injured, and that the criminal named himself as Flynn Rider before he fled."

"... I see," the princess murmurs, her head hanging low as her eyebrows draw together into a thoughtful frown. "I just don't understand, mom," she finally announces, raising her eyes and blinking, as if shaking herself from a lingering dream. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Pride, perhaps?" her mother answers. "Some criminals–"

"No!" she interrupts, her eyes sharpening as she rubs the sleep from them. "I meant, why would anyone pretend they're Flynn Rider?"

"_Pretend?"_ the Queen echoes, and feels disappointment stick in her throat, strangling her ability to speak. She expected Rapunzel to take the news badly, but had honestly hoped for better than denial. "You mean to call it false?"

"Of course! Eugene couldn't possibly have done that," she retorts bluntly, and from her shoulder Pascal nods with confidence; they both know Eugene was in her room all night, so unless he could be in two places at once it was impossible he committed any crimes – except for his presence here, of course.

"Perhaps you should talk to the Captain," her mother requests diplomatically, and it occurs to Rapunzel that she thinks she's just being loyal to the man she loves, rather than having unequivocal proof of his innocence.. "He may make things seem a little clearer."

"Well... okay," she agrees, glancing at Pascal, who gives her a firm nod and gestures with his tail for the door. "Right. Good idea," she said more forcefully, and strides past her mother out into the hall. "I can set this whole thing straight right now."

In the chambers of her parents – where the stiff-suited Captain of the Guard seems overdressed in his uniform while the Royal Family are still in their bedclothes – Rapunzel and a remarkably dour-looking lizard demand to know what is going on. The same story is related of a robbery in the Judge's house, an ensuing fight and the criminal's boast of his identity – made to the victim's wife shortly before the the fiend's escape.

"No," Rapunzel insists time and time again. "There has to be some kind of mistake."

"But Your Highness, with all due respect," addresses the Captain, "why would a criminal _pretend_ to be Flynn Rider? What could he have to gain from it?"

"Well... I don't know," huffs Rapunzel. "How _should_ I? I just know that Eugene can't possibly have been there."

"Why not?_"_ he asks, trying desperately to ignore the fact that the reptile on the princess's shoulder keeps making cut-throat motions at him, because he fears his reality will shatter if he admits to it.

"Because he...!" starts Rapunzel, and then suddenly stops herself. Eugene spends a great deal of time and energy impressing upon her the rules that forbid their being alone together – almost as much time and energy as he spends breaking said rules. She realises that while he might be proven innocent of one crime, his alibi itself could land him in even more trouble.

"Because... uh... I know him," she finishes lamely. "He just wouldn't do a thing like this." She can't stand the faces that her parents and the Captain make, the awkward wince and patronising smile. She knows they think she is a child, blinded by her love and unable to even comprehend Eugene as a man capable of crime.

"My men are searching for Rider now," the Captain announces to the King, turning away from Rapunzel, but consequently finding himself on the receiving end of a truly vicious look from her and her lizard companion. "Ahem, I mean... Fitzherbert," he corrects uncomfortably. "They'll bring him in the moment they capture him."

"Capture?" Rapunzel emphasises. "You're not gonna hurt him, are you?" Her voice rises sharply, and before she knows it her mother has set her arms consolingly around her shoulders.

"Be calm, pet, they won't harm him," she hushes, rubbing her daughter's shoulders gingerly. "They just need to question Eugene a little." Rapunzel looks far from happy with the prospect, and Pascal makes a series of irate-seeming sounds from her shoulder, not that they make any sense to anyone but the princess.

"If he is innocent," points out her father pragmatically, trying to save the last souring remnants of his daughter's temper. "Then surely he will be able to prove that in questioning."

"... Eugene wouldn't do a thing like this, even if he _could _have," is all Rapunzel says, muttering cryptically to herself; Pascal eyeballs her and nods.

"Maybe you should go sleep awhile," the Queen tries to console as she strokes her daughter's hair; she seems distraught and tired. "It will take a while for the Guard to find Fl... Eugene, and you look as if you need some rest."

"I'm not resting!" Rapunzel snaps, and her mother's hand freezes above her head, caught off-guard by the anger in her words. "I'm waiting right here until Eugene gets here and you all realise it _wasn't_ him – then you can start to look for the _real _criminal!" she finishes furiously, her small hands bunched tightly into fists. But as soon as her temper runs out there's nothing left; she lets out a deflating breath; her shoulders sink, until she is hunched over – a small, frightened child again. Her mother starts to comb her fingers tenderly through her hair once more, trying in vain to smooth the uncontrollable mess.

"Okay," she relents; though the Queen is simply worried about her daughter, she knows she cannot force her into anything. It's only been a couple of months since they found each other again, and they are all still learning how to be a family – where the boundaries lie, because although she is their baby, Rapunzel is not truly a child anymore.

To her word, the new princess waits silently for almost an hour – silent to them, at least, as she is spotted whispering into her hand, where a surly-looking chameleon sits – until Eugene is finally escorted into the room. Two guards shove him roughly through the doors without ceremony, and he has a fresh bruise on his face that suggests he was not quite as cooperative as he could've been.

"Eugene!" Rapunzel cries, flying to her feet and throwing herself into his arms, oblivious to her parents and the half a dozen guards watching. She paws at his face frantically, stroking her fingers over the bruise along his cheekbone. "What happened? Are you oka– did they do this to you? You _said _you wouldn't hurt him!" she accuses the Captain ferociously, but before she can carry on any further, Eugene takes hold of her wrists and firmly lowers them.

"Easy, easy," he shushes her, sliding his grip down to her hands and stepping back, hedging a glance at the King and Queen, just to check that they've seen him controlling her overenthusiastic display of affection. "I'm fine, it's just a little scrape. Though," he adds, "it'd be just _great_ if someone could tell me what's this is about." He turns to the Captain in invitation.

"Why don't you tell us, _Rider_," accuses the moustached man. "Tell us about Judge and Lady Gable."

"Who-and-such-a-such?" Eugene parrots unhelpfully, looking distressingly confused and vacant.

"You'd think you could remember them," says the Captain darkly. "You half-beat his brains out, after all."

"I..." Eugene's face creases up, as if he can see the walls of the room closing in on him, but has no idea why. "I... think you've got the wrong guy. I don't know what you're–"

"Where were you last night?" the Captain interrupts, and Eugene gropes around desperately for some kind of explanation, but his sleep-deprived mind finds nothing. Even the King stares at him expectantly, and he feels his mouth drying out as he mulls over the answer he cannot possibly give.

"I – I was at home. You know, where you guys found me? _Sleeping?_" he sarcastically answers at last. "You fellas kicked my butt outta bed pretty hard." He throws an accusatory look at the mute guards who stand around him.

"At home? _Alone?_" presses the Captain.

"Of course!" he snaps with a scowl. "Just what are you trying to imply?"

"Well, have you got a witness to that?" his interrogator asks darkly. "Anyone who could prove you were there?"

"_You _were there!" Eugene retorts furiously, and grabs a handful of his loose linen shirt. "I'm in my freakin' pyjamas!"

"So you were there when we arrived," the Captain manages to make the concession seem small and insignificant. "What about earlier? Can you prove you were there _all _night?" Eugene grimaces, and after a torturous pause, shakes his head lamely; the Captain's mouth curls into a smirk beneath his moustache. "Didn't think so, Rider. _Boys_..." he starts, and Rapunzel suddenly lets out an urgent noise of protest.

"Stop!" she cries. "I can pro-mmmpfh!" Before she can go on, Eugene claps a hand up to her face and covers her mouth with a look of desperation.

"_Don'tyoudaaaaresayit_!" he yelps in a tone so urgent and mashed together Pascal is the only living thing in the room that understands. "I mean – I know it's a lot to take in, Rapunzel, but don't go acting _crazy,"_ he amends, giving her a serious look, and she reluctantly keeps her silence. Thankfully, no one seems to suspect too much of the outburst, most likely assuming that the princess is hysterical enough to disregard.

"Well, Rider?" prompts the captain, savouring every moment of what he clearly thinks has been a long time coming.

"It's _Fitzherbert_," Eugene growls threateningly – not something he ever thought he'd hear himself say. "And okay, I'll admit it, I've got no witnesses or alibis for last night," he begins, "... but have you got anything to prove I _wasn't _where I say I was? Where exactly do you think I've been?"

"Cute, real cute, _Rider_," the Captain sneers. "You made a little trip to the estate of Judge Gable, didn't you? Thought you'd get your hands on some of his antiques, and battered his brains out when he tried to stop you."

"Well I hate to rain on your parade," he replies without the slightest suggestion of remorse. "Only I definitely didn't."

"That's not what our witness says," rebutts the Captain. "Did you forget your chat with the Judge's wife? Where you told her exactly _who_ and _what_ you are?"

"What? How ridiculous," Eugene scoffs. "Even if I did do something wrong, do you really think I'd go and just tell everyone?" He pauses dramatically, and then slowly realises that everyone in the room bar Rapunzel is giving him a severely awkward look – even Pascal's in on it; evidently, they do. "Oh. Right," he clips, and fires a panicked glance towards his one ally.

"Nice try," glowers the Captain. "You really pulled a fast one on us for a while there – I knew this nice guy act was too good to be true."

"I'm innocent!" Eugene barks, "and if you're so _sure_, why don't you bring in these folks I'm meant to have robbed and have them identify me, huh?" At this, the Captain's triumphant posture weakens, and he exchanges a guilty look with the King.

"Judge... Judge Gable is still too infirm to identify you, and his wife says in the darkness it was hard to see clearly," the Captain confesses uncomfortably. "She unfortunately cannot give an accurate testimony."

"Right, so you're just taking her word for it based on someone _saying_ the name Flynn Rider – even though it could've been anyone," he points out indignantly. "So by this logic, if I went out thieving and said I was the Lost Princess, you'd take _her_ away for a crime she didn't commit too."

"Eugene," Rapunzel interjects, tugging on his arm and doing her best to quiet him before his attitude gets him in any more trouble with the guards. "Please calm down," she pleads, and he turns to her with an angry scowl; but he stops as he meets her eyes, frowning bitterly and he biting his tongue. He knows he isn't making things any easier for himself, but he can't help it when everyone is being so completely, illogically _ridiculous._ Rapunzel turns to her family and the Captain, and even through the sadness, confusion and outright exhaustion, they can see there is strength in her.

"Eugene is innocent," she tells them; a statement of fact. "_Why_ can't you believe him? If not him, then at least believe _me_," she begs. "I _promise _he's innocent, and you know I-"

"This is a matter of the law, Princess," the Captain interrupts disdainfully, but regrets the move immediately, because the King takes his attitude none too favourably; at last he stands up to speak, which silences the flurry of argument around the room at once.

"These are my thoughts," he rumbles pensively. "If this was another criminal, he will likely strike again. So, if Fitzherbert agrees to stay secured within the palace, when there is another incident, his innocence will be proven."

"I think I know _just _the secure place to keep him, Your Highness," the Captain glowers, clapping his hands together greedily.

"Beg pardon, guys," Eugene cuts in, "but to me that sounds like _guilty until proven innocent – _I'm gonna be honest here, I'm not too hot on spending time in prison for a crime I didn't commit just to prove that I didn't commit it."

"Okay, it's a deal," Rapunzel answers her father obliviously, "but only if you promise not to hurt him." Eugene snaps his head around disbelievingly.

"Hey! Did you hear _any_ of that?" he squawks, but then she turns to him, her hand finding his and gripping it tight.

"It's the only way, Eugene," she says quietly. "At least this way you'll be safe, and they can catch whoever really did it."

"Prison isn't my idea of _safe_," he protests sharply, but she fixes him with her most heart-melting look and drops her voice even further, so that only he can make out what she whispers.

"_Please_," she breathes, her green eyes almost luminous in the light of the morning. "_It's gonna be okay. I promise." _He knows that it's no breezy matter when she promises something, because she never breaks her word, but sometimes there are things beyond her control; it isn't her he can't trust, it's the rest of them. However, he begrudgingly accepts this is his best option – or at least, that all the others are going to much worse. He heaves a sigh, and on the long, weary exhale he finally gives in.

"Okay," he groans, "okay. I'll go." He feels a pressure on his shoulder, and glances aside to spot Pascal climbing up to his collar, blending quickly to the colour of his shirt; at least he knows if anything happens to him, he can guarantee Rapunzel will get word of it.

"Also, when the Judge is well enough, he should be able to identify his attacker," the King adds, an ineffectual attempt to make the situation seem less like the unwilling internment of a man yet to be charged with any crimes.

"_Whomever_ it might be," the Captain remarks obnoxiously, and if Eugene hadn't just allowed a guard to snap a pair of shackles around his wrists, he'd have ripped the guy's stupid-looking helmet off him and _beaten_ him with it.

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><p>Continuing feedback in the form of reviews is super appreciated, as I'm still in the process of perfecting this story so it'd be great to know how I'm doing with it.<p>

Fun fact: I only wrote Pascal in on like my 3rd edit. Up until about chapter 7 of the backlog I totally forgot about the poor little guy.


	3. The Accusation

Mooooooore Tangled fic for all you lovely people. Thanks to my reviewers who really give me the drive to keep on writing and updating this.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted <em>

~3~

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><p>In spite of the King and Queen's best efforts, Rapunzel still refuses to wear shoes – indoors or outdoors. Her bare feet sting on the cold lichen-covered floor of the dungeon as she sprints down at breakneck speed, whirling past reams of cells until she finds him at last, skidding to a stop so suddenly her feet almost fly out from underneath her.<p>

"Eugene? Are you okay?" she rushes noisily, throwing herself onto her knees and reaching an arm between the bars for Eugene, who sits dozing against the slimy and moss-covered wall.

She honestly hadn't realised that when the Captain said he knew 'just the safe place' for Eugene, he actually, _literally _meant the dungeon. It was just a precaution, they told her, but it seemed to be a precaution only the former Flynn Rider had to suffer. She'd tried to stop them, but her father stiffly reminded her she'd made a deal, and where they kept him wasn't part of that arrangement.

Eugene wakes with a start; realising it's her, he crawls up to the front of the cell and takes her flailing hand in his, turning it up to his mouth and pressing his lips against it to feel her warmth.

"Man it's good to see you," he murmurs groggily, dragging her warm palm over his cheek. "Any progress?" Her face falls, and he knows the answer without it needing to be said. "Oh."

A small face pops out of his collar, and Pascal peeks cautiously through the dim light. Once he sees Rapunzel, he pelts down Eugene's arm, straight through the bars, and whirs lovingly against her cheek as she cradles him close. Eugene never thought he'd see the day he was jealous of a chameleon, but feels like he ought check outside for flying pigs with the way things are shaping up. In prison for a crime he didn't even commit, and envious of a smartass lizard.

While he's been trying to sleep in a cold and particularly unwelcoming prison cell, Rapunzel was out trying to convince anyone who'd listen of his innocence. Unfortunately, it hasn't gone all that well; the light has faded from the tiny window high up in his cage, and the cold sinks in unforgivingly. He realises grimly he's going to be spending the night, probably several nights – until either the Judge he supposedly attacked is well enough, or his impersonator strikes again. Neither prospect fills him with much hope.

He spent many of the endless hours trying to work out _who _would do a thing like this to him, but he surprisingly comes up blank – sure, he _had _a lot of enemies before he gave up the Flynn Rider jig, but most of them have either been brought to justice and inhabit the cells surrounding him, or they've accepted his change of heart and forgiven him.

"I'm sorry, Eugene," Rapunzel whimpers, and her eyes shine like they're about to tear up. "I tried, I really did."

"Hey, hey," he replies, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "It's okay. You did your best – come on," he pleads when she doesn't smile, and he sees water glisten along her lower lashes. "Seriously, if _you _start crying then _I'm _gonna start and then there'll be no stopping us," he jokes, a weak attempt to comfort her, but she laughs weakly, rubs her eyes, and offers him a smile.

He wishes desperately he could hold her; she looks like she needs it just as much as he does. She also needs a rest, because he notices the dark, purplish bags under her eyes, and clicks his tongue with concern.

"Have you slept at all today?" he asks, and she shakes her head. "Well look at you," he sighs. "You're going to drop where you stand at this rate. Go on," he urges, "go to bed. I'll still be here in the morning." He winks at her. "I promise." She shakes her head again.

"No," she says quietly, and although she's so tired her eyelids keep fluttering down and have to be hauled open again, her tone is absolute. He knows there isn't much he can do to change her mind when she's like this, short of prying open the thick iron bars and carrying her to bed himself. "I put you in here," she adds wanly, and tips to lean her forehead against the bars as her eyelids droop again. "I'm not leaving."

Eugene sighs again and wishes he could kiss her, but the bars are just a fraction too thick; instead he runs his fingers through her hair, holds her hand in his as they rest on the grimy floor. Heartfelt as her gesture of solidarity is, even he thinks she should be in bed rather than down here in the cold with him.

"Rapunzel?" he questions, thinking he'll try again before she catches a cold, but she doesn't stir. "Are you... hello? Rapunzel?" He ruffles his fingers in her hair again, and she still doesn't move – for the first time all day she looks relaxed. Pascal peeks out at Eugene, prods Rapunzel in the cheek with his tail, and then makes a snoozing motion. Eugene lets out a chuckle that ends in a sigh, and carefully withdraws his arm, though he keeps their clutched hands together against the cell floor.

"Sweet dreams, princess," he murmurs, touching a finger to his lips, then against her forehead.

"Rapunzel?" a new voice – low and throaty – accompanies footsteps down the hall. As the King strides into view, Eugene makes an exaggerated shushing gesture and points at Rapunzel. "Oh," the King hushes, and moves over with surprising grace and quietness for a man of his stature. He studies his daughter, and notices without comment her hand wrapped tightly inside Eugene's.

"She literally just dropped off," the imprisoned man says quietly. It's been a very long day, particularly for someone who's been awake for at least twenty hours of the last twenty-four, so he'd rather not disturb her.

"I see. I'd try to move her," the King remarks, rubbing his chin with his fingers, "but I might hazard a guess that if she wakes, she's just going to come straight back down here?" Eugene nods – it's true, so there's no sense beating about the bush, and the old King sighs. "You really mean the world to her, don't you?" he asks, and Eugene's eyes lower; he looks almost ashamed as he shrugs.

"I guess I do," he admits. "Not that I deserve it, or anything."

He knows he isn't worth half of what she thinks of him, and he wonders sometimes, in his darker moments, if there are others more worthy than he is for her, that she might suit better. It was pure chance he was the person to find her, to bring her out into the world, and he wonders how big a part that had to play in making her love him. It makes him think – what if it _had_ been someone else? Would she have fallen in love with them instead?

"Well, I'm not sure if I agree with that," the King remarks with a low, rumbling voice, and looks Eugene hard in the eyes. He is silent for a while, his brows knit tightly in thought, and then he finally reaches into his pocket and withdraws a single key, which he presses to the lock of the cell. "If my daughter believes in you this much," he answers the prisoner's stunned look, "then so will I. Come, lets get her to bed."

"...Thank you, Your Highness," Eugene says with all his heart, and considers how he managed to end up with such decent people around him, considering the awful sort of person he used to be.

"Just don't tell my wife," the King jests only half-seriously, and Eugene grins, figuring that the princess had to get a sense of humour from somewhere. He slowly untangles the hand clenched up in his, then passes gratefully through the open door. He steps round and crouches beside Rapunzel, who stirs as soon he pulls away and opens her eyes groggily.

"I'm here," he murmurs comfortingly as she starts to look around, stroking a hand gently through her hair before scooping her up in his arms. She lolls against his chest limply, not even fully awake, and Eugene and the King head away from the dank prison.

"Eugene," Rapunzel mumbles, half-asleep and incoherent. "You're... you..."

"Shh," he hushes. "You kept your promise, blondie, everything's okay. Go back to sleep."

"Ohh... ohhkay," she sighs heavily, and is gone before she's even finished her yawn. Eugene notices the King's eyes on him, and realises what he called her.

"Did I say blondie?" he remarks awkwardly. "Force of habit." The King just raises his eyebrows and smiles. After a while, and carefully, as if he has considered each and every word studiously, the King speaks.

"You know, it is true that my wife and I would not have chosen an..." he begins, and pauses for a second, which Eugene doesn't miss, "_ex-_thief, to suit our daughter."

At this Eugene flinches, because he's so aware of that fact that it hurts, and that's why he tries so desperately hard to play by all the rules and do the right thing. Because if he wants her, he has to do it in _spite _of who and what he is.

"However," the King adds before Eugene's mind runs too far into despair, "...we could not ask for someone more devoted. As one man to another," he says, and Eugene remembers that underneath the crown and robes, there _is _just a man like him. "You've earned her love – enjoy it."

Eugene swallows and can't quite believe the King – the father, the _ultimate _authority – has just said he might be worthy of her, which he barely thinks himself.

"Your Highness..." he mumbles. "I – I... thanks." He doesn't like how stupid he sounds, but can't seem to find any better phrasing. The King walks beside him with long strides, his hands tucked behind his back.

"Still," the elder man remarks pensively. "This problem of Flynn Rider is not going to disappear." He looks over at Eugene, who understands perfectly the gravity of the situation. The King has miraculously chosen to believe in him and his innocence, but that is on the provision that the _real _criminal is discovered and brought to justice.

"Of course," he agrees. "I'll do anything I can to help, just say the word." The King nods, then points out the way to Rapunzel's room when Eugene halts at a turning, unsure which way to take her. She doesn't weigh much, but that doesn't mean he fancies carrying her in aimless circles around the palace all night.

When they finally reach the higher echelons of the tower, where the princess's room is tucked away, the King holds opens the door and lets Eugene and the princess inside. Taking her to the bed, Eugene sets her down amongst the rumpled covers, but she stirs again when the warmth of his body leaves hers, and opens her eyes a crack.

"Whuh..." she moans groggily, lifting her eyebrows at Eugene's blurry outline, unable to make sense of what's going on. "Eugene?"

"I'm fine," he murmurs reassuringly. "It's all fine. You get some sleep, huh? I'll see you in the morning."

Rapunzel yawns, nods her consent, and then her eyes close again. Eugene hedges a look at the King, and then decides that it wouldn't matter _who _was here, because he really can't leave her without a goodnight kiss. He brushes the back of his fingers down her cheek, leans over, and presses his lips against her forehead, hearing a happy sigh before he pulls back upright.

His arms feel painfully empty without her, as he turns to face the King.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he says yet again, and it's only just above grovelling, "for everything."

The King says nothing, but when Eugene walks back to the door – where he stands bolt-upright, effortlessly dwarfing the younger man – he lays a heavy hand on Eugene's shoulder, and gives him an appreciative, understanding smile. Eugene says nothing, but the gesture means more than words can express anyway.

The King walks with him all the way to the Castle exit, making sure that all the guards understand he is letting him go freely, and finally bids Eugene goodbye at the gated doorway onto the streets.

"Get some rest yourself, Fitzherbert," he tells him almost paternally. "I suspect you need it just as much as my daughter does." Eugene guesses his face is enough of a giveaway, and though he dozed in the prison cell it was hardly rewarding sleep. The thought of his soft, welcoming bed back in his rooms, only a few minutes from the castle, gives him the energy to smile.

"I guess so," he says weakly, and then tips down his head in a bow. "Goodbye, Your Highness, and – not to sound like a broken record or anything, but thank–"

"Please," the King interrupts, feeling he's had more than enough gratitude for the day. "Don't mention it. And call me George." Eugene nods, a little too stunned to say anything, and then bows properly, waiting until the King walks away before he does so himself.

The fresh air of the city smells good in contrast to the musty state of the dungeon – Eugene breathes deeply, long sighs of relief, and tips back his head to look at the stars glistening in the dark sky. He doesn't live far from the palace, for obvious reasons, so it's not long before he pushes through his own doorway and laboriously climbs the stairs that lead up to his room.

But settling the key in the lock, he turns it and hears not a reassuring click, but a strangled metallic scrape. He pushes the door, and it swings open freely; the wood where the lock sits is splintered, the groove in the frame ripped clean out.

Eugene glances around the room in a panic – just his luck to _be _burgled while locked up in a prison for burglary; however, all of his things seem to be there – some are disturbed, knocked onto the floor or thrown about, but when he rushes to a stack of drawers and rips the first open, a bag of gold coins still sits lazily in the corner, untouched from when he set it in there. Slowly he realises nothing worth stealing is missing, and puzzles it as he turns around.

Then he realises something has been _added _to his room, not taken.

On the wall above his bed – the covers of which are rumpled and stamped with dirt – angry slashes of black ink stand out against the smooth white plaster. The stabs of paint form a single word, a furious scrawl – an accusation. Eugene's eyes widen as he reads the charge.

TRAITOR

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><p><em>To be continued.<em>

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><p>Yeah I try not to have loads of cliffhangers, I swear I do.<p>

Well maybe.

Leave a Review!


	4. The Realisation

Well howdy-doody. I made some fanfictions for y'all. Said I'd be working on a fast update! This chapter is the first one that really starts knuckling down into the plot, so let's hope it goes down well.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted <em>

~4~

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><p>Eugene dreams of his home. Well, the only place he ever knew as home - the orphanage; always too cold in the winter, when the wind blew through every hole and the house whistled like a wheezy old man; then too hot in the summer, when no air could escape so it fermented in children and sweat until everything felt sticky.<p>

They're happy faces he remembers, though, overlooked by the clucking Auntie who fed and washed and scolded them if – or _when_ – they misbehaved. Aunt Aya, she had them call her. The nearest thing he ever had to a mother – in his own memory, at least.

Eugene dreams of the older boys he looked up to – then when they left and he _became_ one of the older boys – of the younger kids who looked up to him. To whom he'd read the tales of Flynnigan Rider, then where the pages had fallen out of the beat-up and overloved book, he made up his own parts to fill in the gaps. He dreams about the girls too – from whom he learned to tease and flirt, who taught him the power of _the smoulder_. Who loved to hate and hated to love him.

He wakes up often between these dreams, and it always takes a moment to realise he is not in the orphanage still, not in the rickety once-grand town house that still stands on the outskirts of town, still ringing with the voices of children.

However, the ugly smear on the wall by his bed reminds him of where he is; he tried to scrub off the word – TRAITOR, bold and black – but the paint doesn't wash and all he's done is smudge and make it worse. Tomorrow he plans to paint over it; this is not something he wants to admit has happened.

When he goes back to sleep, it is still the orphanage he dreams of relentlessly and incessantly; when he wakes the next morning, it feels as if he has not slept at all. In his dreams he has been swimming rivers, climbing and falling out of trees; he's been stealing food from markets, and getting chased down by six Kingdom guards, even though he can't be more than ten.

In spite of his exhaustion, he begrudgingly rolls out of bed and starts to wash up, knowing he won't get any more peace. As he shaves his eyes keep on flitting to the black mess on the wall, feeding the sick weight in his stomach, pulling at the corners of his mind like a bunched seam.

He tries to work out who could've done it – who or _what_ is he a traitor to – and why would someone go to such lengths to let him know. They broke in yet took nothing. It seems likely the message is related to the crime, that perhaps it was left by someone taken in by the Flynn Rider ploy, accusing him of betraying the promise to turn it would account for why they stole nothing, if it was meant to be a moral act.

Although it makes sense, for some reason Eugene can't help a niggling doubt, as if he's missing something. The time frame seems off, the message feels personal, but just as he can't imagine who would want to frame him as Flynn Rider, he can't think of any enemies who would do this, either. If it was the same person, they must want him punished – revenge, maybe, but for what?

He doesn't tell anyone about the message – can't see any purpose in telling, even if he _wanted_ to. Not even Rapunzel, who he visits in the castle later on – making sure he keeps his word to check on her, rested and recovered, overjoyed to see him free. He knows the message would only worry her, and he fears if others knew – if the Captain somehow found out – they would think it was related to the crimes and twist it to strengthen the case against him.

Not that it needs any more strengthening, and for that reason he doesn't linger long at the castle, uncomfortable with the horde of accusatory looks he receives; he can tell even the Queen has reservations about him, though she keeps them unvoiced, and only Rapunzel and the King honestly believe he is innocent. Eugene realises that until the 'Flynn Rider' case is solved, none of his visits to the castle are going to be all that welcome, so he soon finds him himself on the streets of the city without very much to do.

On another day he might decide to take a trip somewhere outside the Kingdom, but it'd look worryingly suspicious in the current circumstances – like he was fleeing the city. Of course, he _could_ go home and paint over the defaced wall, but he can't bear to see it right now; the dark accusation unnerves him too much.

So he is caged, locked between frustration and apathy – incapable of focusing because his mind keeps returning to his dreams. It doesn't help that he walks through places he saw in them, streets he remembers running down as a child, stalls he used to shoplift from – all while the snapshot in his head of the house keeps flashing up, like it's superimposing itself on his mind. Eventually he gets sick of it, and decides that perhaps going back there might help – scratch the itch, put the strange yearning to rest, or perhaps his subconscious is trying to tell him something – so he sets off on the long walk across town to the orphanage.

The house still stands, if a little more lopsided than it was when he left almost ten years ago, and as he approaches he hears children playing in the gardens. He stands awkwardly at the bottom of the steps and hesitates; he swore he wasn't ever coming back the day he ran away, but now he feels a nostalgic longing, a sudden desire to find his past again. He wants to know if Aunt Aya still rules the place with a keen eye and sharp tongue, if the initials he carved on the skirting board are still there. Rapunzel reclaimed her family and history, so he wonders if maybe her example has influenced him, however subtly.

At the same time, he's anxious, practically afraid, but the decision is made for him when a slightly stooped figure passes by one of the ground floor windows, and spots him loitering.

"Hey! If you've no business here then shove-!" the far from mild-mannered woman yells out of the window, making Eugene turn to her with a fearful shock; instinct takes over and he flinches at the tone of voice that is still hardwired into his brain as being in trouble. Then the woman adjusts her glasses, and her face lights up.

"Why... Eugene?" she exclaims disbelievingly. "Is that really you?"

"Uh..." he murmurs uncomfortably, wondering if this is such a great idea. The woman disappears form the window and reappears at the door half a minute later, her arms spread wide.

"Eugene," she coos fondly. "It's about damn time. Come on inside."

"Aw... uh... I was just passing by, I can't really," Eugene dodges, regretting turning up at all. He knows she will only have hundreds of questions for him – most of which he won't want to answer – not to mention a decade of undelivered scolding. This was clearly a bad idea, his flight instincts tell him.

"_Inside_, Eugene," she commands, and his face drops any last trace of its casual demeanour.

"Yes maam," he mumbles quietly, and then follows her in. He's led into the main room, where a few children are shooed out of the way, and sat down at a well-worn table with far too many bitemarks around the edges. A cup of tea is placed in his hand in spite of his not asking for it, and finally the grey-haired old woman who raised him sits herself down.

"So," she begins authoritatively, and Eugene flinches in expectation of a cuff around the ear, or at least a scolding for not dropping by sooner. "Flynn Rider's back, eh?"

"Oh,", he replies, and his face falls. "News travels fast, huh?"

"Such a good boy, Eugene," she sighs. "Most of the time, anyway. Where did I go so wrong?"

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't do it?" he questions, and she turns a sharp eye on him. "I mean, I did _most _of it," he amends sheepishly. "But this last time – with the Judge and his wife – it _really _wasn't me. I gave up all of that when I-"

"For her?" the auntie cuts in mercilessly, and Eugene reels a little with her brash intrusion. The downside of falling in love with a lost princess – whose return was the single greatest event in the history of the Kingdom – was that unfortunately everyone seemed to know about his love life now.

"Yes," he says quietly, without hesitation, "for her."

Aunt Aya is silent and takes a sip from her own cup. He swears she looks exactly the same as when he left – as she always has – like time just overlooks her. Witch Gothel would probably have killed for the secret.

"Swear on it, then," she announces, and he gives her a puzzled look. "Swear on your love for the princess it wasn't you." Her methods haven't changed much, he realises with an almost fond nostalgia. All oaths when he was young were measured over the things you loved most, and if you broke your word those things were usually taken – he lost a lot of pocket money that way. However, he almost lost Rapunzel once, no way would he ever lose her again.

"I swear," he says firmly, and she studies him carefully as she takes another sip of her tea; then finally, her thin lips curl into a smile.

"Good boy," she clucks fondly. "I knew you'd grow up well in the end."

"No you didn't," he counters, and she laughs; a high trilling sound, as if she has a songbird somewhere in her family history.

"Well I hoped," she amends. "What brings you down here, after all these years?"

"I dunno," he says with a shrug. "I just felt like it." He thought that being here would help, but the niggling feeling, the _itch_, they've only gotten worse. He looks around the room idly. "Nothing's changed, has it?" The woman shakes her head.

"Nothing does," she remarks. "Same place, same kids – different names." She chuckles to herself, and winks at him. "They all think they're so original. Especially the Eugene Fitzherberts." He could pretend to be surprised and offended at the implication that he wasn't a one-of-a-kind individual, but he might as well save his breath, because he knows what she means.

"Do they all still want to be Flynnigan Rider?" he humorously asks instead.

"The smart ones do," she replies, and takes another ladylike sip. As far as he'd garnered, Aunt Aya was from a good background, but abandoned it to open up the orphanage, having no children of her own. "The dumb ones all want to be you," she adds coolly, and gives him a cutting look.

"Hey," he says defensively, holding up his hands. "I never endorsed my lifestyle to anyone._ Not to mention_ I'm trying to mend my ways." Trying was the operative word – giving up criminal life wasn't the easiest transition to make; he'd put effort into it, and finding new ways to make money was quite a challenge, considering he'd been a thief all his life. The urge to steal things he wanted was an impossibly irritating habit to kick.

"About time," she berates, although without real malice. "You should come back and talk to the troublemakers, set them straight before they get a chance to go astray like you did – oh, I've never _seen _boys get into so much trouble," she laments with an amused groan. "The lot of you were unstoppable – drove me half-mad you did."

He recalls who she speaks of; his closest and most loyal friends and followers. The gang he first acted out their favourite story with, then built their own adventures when the tired of the ones in the book – it was how he became Flynn Rider.

"What happened to them all?" he asks thoughtfully. Most of the boys had been younger than he was, so he'd left them behind when he ran away to steal his fortune.

"Ohh, here and there," Aunt Aya says carelessly. "Marcus became a blacksmith's apprentice, Angelo went to study... got married, I think. The others – who knows? No one keeps in touch with me, ungrateful swines," she sighs, and Eugene evades her pointed glare.

"What about Francis?" he inquires; a face that had been prominent in his dreams. Francis was the youngest of his trope, the _baby_, but also his best sidekick. When the other, slightly wiser, boys abandoned ship – namely, whenever Eugene landed himself in _big_ trouble – Francis was the only one who'd stand by him.

"Francis... I don't know anymore," she reveals sadly. "He was working in a bakery until recently... then, a while ago, he just ups and vanishes." Eugene can tell she is still worried, and he never knew her to worry unless the cause was just.

He wonders how old 'the baby' must be now – not much older than Rapunzel, he works out, and it makes him feel old. It's only five or so years, but in his mind Francis is just a little kid, and realizing that even _he's _got a couple of years on Rapunzel is a sobering thought. Seven years between them, and he remembers all too well what he was like at _her_ age.

"He just... vanished?" he asks, unable to believe that the boy could have just dropped off the face of the world – he worries something happened to him, that he's lying robbed and left for dead. Eugene was always a little overprotective, partly because Francis was the youngest and most easily hurt or upset, but also because he had a knack for getting into trouble – getting _him _into trouble.

"Just like you did," answers Aunt Aya with a disapproving inference. "There one day, gone the next. His boss came here to ask if I'd seen him – that was how I found out."

"Jeez," Eugene murmurs, settling his chin in his hand; it's been years since he he flicked through the endless catalogue of memories that compiles his youth, but he realises most are fond. He realises he misses his old gang. That they were the best friends he's had to date – real friends. It wasn't a childhood _without_ hardship – when Aya ran short on money, being hungry and cold, trying to steal food for the children and getting a hiding for his trouble – but he had a home, and people to call family. That mattered more than he ever gave away, even to Rapunzel during any of her customary interrogations.

So if 'Aunt' Aya was his mother, Francis was his younger brother, and he had every right to be concerned about him.

"Francis was such a good boy," she laments. "_He _was considerate enough to come and see how his Auntie was holding up. Used to help me around the house too... wonderful with the children." She removes her glasses and polishes them with her sleeve, while Eugene genially ignores the indirect complaint. "Still never stopped talking about you," she adds offhandedly, and he raises his eyebrows.

"Really?" He'd assumed that after he left the orphanage everyone would have just moved on, but on reflection it does stink a little.

"Oh yes," Aya insisted. "He _would _go on and on. _Flynn_ this and _Flynn_ that..." Eugene's face creases at the choice of name. Although he used to encourage the kids to call him Flynn – acting out 'The Tales of...' was one of their favourite games – whenever something went wrong, it was always _Eugene _who was in trouble.

"He called me Flynn?" he questions suspiciously.

"With the kids," she replies. "Told them _such _stories about you every time he visited... so I suppose you're not entirely to blame for their mania." At the concession, he flashes her a proud grin – _it wasn't me_ was a difficult argument to stop making, especially if it was true.

"Though... not the last time I saw him – no, then he called you Eugene," Aya recounts thoughtfully. "I remember because of the kids – they wanted Flynn Rider stories as usual, but he snapped them rather sourly. Had quite the temper tantrum and stormed off – _'Eugene's betrayed us'_ he kept yelling when I tried to calm him down. You know how he'd get when he was worked up," she says with a roll of the eyes and a dismissive hand gesture, and Eugene knows the moods she speaks of.

"Typical of you children," she moans hyperbolically. "Never stop causing your poor Auntie trouble."

Eugene shrugs guiltily and lifts his cup, but suddenly that word from his wall flashes up in his mind as Aya's words echo in his ear, and his fingers slip, the cup falls clattering to the table. Aya gives a shrill cry, reaches across to save her crockery, mopping a puddle of tea while a stream of beration comes from her lips.

But Eugene doesn't hear her – it's hit him, it's hit him like a ton of bricks. The message on his wall isn't accusing him of betrayal to his promise to start over as Eugene, it is betrayal of his _becoming _Eugene. The betrayal of a childhood hero.

The niggling doubt that's been festering in his mind gone, he sees everything clearly; the message, the attack on the Judge – it isn't an attempt to frame him, it's a _new _Flynn Rider, a replacement because he's a traitor and quit. Eugene buries his face in his hands as he realises what has happened – what _has _to have happened.

Francis is the new Flynn Rider.

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><p>Does this count as a cliffhanger? I just don't know chapter is heavy on OCs, but they felt necessary to me so hopefully they weren't too hard to deal with. It's difficult to go into Eugene's past without getting cliche. No Rapunzel either, Eugene needed to handle this one on his own.<p>

In this story I've put Eugene at about 25 or so, and I figure he ran away about 15.

=(^.^)= _meow meow meow!_

That is kitty's way of saying please leave a review!


	5. The Farewell

_Updated! It's been super-fun talking to reviewers about developments and all sorts of interesting things about Tangled in general as well as the story. I've somehow managed to gather a totally cool bunch of reader-reviewers!_

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~5~

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><p>"Where are you going?" Rapunzel asks – her tone is a little worried but otherwise reasonable.<p>

"I don't know," Eugene answers like a stone wall. He stares off into the distance and actively avoids looking at her, his fingers locked together and his shoulders drawn up high.

"Well, when are you coming back?" she asks more urgently this time, she wants to find something to hold onto. She needs some explanation as to why the man she loves – who appeared to love her back – has climbed up to her window at great risk not to spend time with her, but to tell her he's leaving.

"I don't know," he repeats; the level of his voice and intonation are all so perfectly replicated he could be on a loop. He hasn't moved an inch, still hunched over himself, tight shoulders pulling his elbows in and fingers fisted together in the middle of his lap.

"_Why _are you going?" she pleads at last, and this time he turns to eyes for the briefest of moments before he looks away again.

"I can't tell you," he breaks as gently as he can, but he can see well enough how hurt she is – but he can't, he just _can't_ tell her, because he can't tell anyone.

As soon as he worked it out Eugene realised he couldn't let the word get out about Francis. This was all his fault; he'd become Flynn Rider in the first place, led his friend into believing in the fantasy, and then abandoned him not once but _twice_ – first when he left home, then when he quit being Flynn Rider, their hero_,_ the one thing they thought was right about a world that seemed all wrong to kids like them. He's hurt him enough already, the word still scrawled across his bedroom wall gives that much away, and he can't – _won't_ – hurt him any more.

If he points the finger at Francis – who again he remembers isn't much older than the girl standing before him, scared and frightened – then he condemns him. He might not be executed, but it would still mean prison, and from there it only goes downhill; just like the residents of the Snuggly Duckling. They all had dreams, and look where they ended up until Rapunzel came along. So Eugene is _not_ putting Francis there; he'd rather go back himself. However, he can't let him carry on trying to be the new Flynn Rider, either. That's only going to get him caught – with or without Eugene's help. So it's clear. He has to save him. He has to find Francis himself and set him straight; he's sure if he stops Francis now, catches him quickly, he can still turn it back around.

The fact that it's been almost ten years since Eugene saw him last doesn't make a difference – that the boy was nine and crying the day he ran away – his feelings haven't changed. Francis was his best friend, his most loyal ally – his younger brother, and it didn't matter if it was by blood or not. He's kid Eugene got into fights for when others tried to bully him, took the blame when he got into trouble – stole presents for him on Christmas and birthdays, even at the risk of a beating from Auntie.

He looked after him – took the sniffling teary mess who arrived only months after Eugene did, and turned him into a real child who could smile and laugh. Now that Francis needs his help again, he's going to come through.

It's no benevolent act either; he's guilty because he became so wrapped up in his own caricature of himself that it wasn't befitting to think of the snot-nosed kid, who'd been just as instrumental in creating the persona as he had. He couldn't admit to Flynn Rider's humble origins, so only now does he see how much he has to make up for. He has to right one more of Flynn Rider's wrongs, before he ruins any more lives; like he almost ruined Rapunzel's – something he will never forget as long as he lives his precious returned-life.

Obviously he knows _she_ is upset about his leaving, and of course he doesn't like doing it, but if he tells Rapunzel she would want to let her family know the truth – who in turn would inform the Kingdom Guard, who would then try capture Francis and make him pay for his crimes.

Although Eugene may not be a criminal himself any more, he is _not_ having that 'justice' be done – not by his hand. Even though he trusts Rapunzel, and knows he could swear her to secrecy, someone could overhear them, or she could make a mistake, or any number of innocent accidents might let the cat out of the bag. It's a risk he's not willing to make, because if no one else knows, then Eugene can be _sure _Francis is still safe.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, but it isn't good enough.

"Don't apologise, just tell me _why_, Eugene," she begs, and reaches for his shoulder. He tenses against her – if he lets his guard down too far, he'll give in to her and he's sworn to himself he _will not_.

"There's just... something I have to do," he explains slowly, like each word is physically painful. "Something... I have to fix."

"Is it about Flynn Rider?" she guesses, but he doesn't react, lets out no tell.

"...No," he lies. "I just need to go away for a while." Rapunzel is quiet, touches her fingers to her mouth, biting her lower lip worrisomely.

"Is it... something I said?" she says at last, and his heart wrenches.

"No," he rushes, and cannot help but look up at her, "of course not. I swear, I wouldn't leave unless I had to," he insists, and barely resists getting up to hold her, let her know that he still loves her more than anything.

"And... you're sure you _have_ to?" Rapunzel feels like screaming and crying at the same time; feels like throwing herself into his lap and sobbing into his shoulder while she hits him for making her so upset in the first place.

"Yes," he answers without hesitation, and then again, "I'm sorry."

The fact that he seems just as pained by this as she is makes it worse somehow; even though Rapunzel tells herself she isn't a child any more – _doesn't_ cry like one – she feels tears filling her eyes. She tries not to blink, wills them away, but he's _leaving _and he won't tell her why. Eugene's never left her side willingly before now, and she's scared he won't come back, or that his feelings for her have changed and this is a way for him to escape. At last she's forced to blink, and it pushes out a tear, which rolls from the corner of her eye and alongside her nose, evaporating coolly in the coldness of the night.

"Oh sweetheart," Eugene rushes when he notices, the cracks in his heart splitting even deeper, "don't cry. _Please_ don't cry." He gets to his feet and cups her face in his hands, rubbing away the tear-streak with his thumb as if it's really that easy.

"When do you have to go?" she asks lamely, and squeezes her eyes shut again; two more tears throb out, and his fingers come again to blot them.

"As soon as possible," he murmurs, and then pulls her close to him, holds her tight and tries to soothe the way her small chest heaves against him. "I'm so sorry," he says, "there's just no other way."

For a while she says nothing – unable to – so she just silently cries into him and tries to understand. She wonders if it's her fault, if there's anything she can do, or if there's _nothing _she can do and that's why he's going.

"Shhh," he hushes as he strokes the back of her head, feeling her cry against him and knowing it's _his _fault; he'd punch himself in the face if it'd give either of them any sense of justice. "I'm coming back. It's not forever."

"Promise?" she asks, a tiny, fragile voice that matches her perfectly in this moment. He pulls back and looks her in the eyes, the huge green irises boring into him.

"I promise," he echoes, and then pulls her into a kiss; short and restrained, he can't let himself get too drawn in or he'll drown, but it reassures her enough to stop the tears. "You won't even miss me," he adds with false brightness. "Barely notice I'm gone." She smiles even though it still hurts, and sniffs, rubs her face with the back of her hand.

"I will," she contradicts, and traces her finger down the front of his tunic, feeling the tough ridged line of stitch in the material. Eugene's breath hitches in his throat, he looks up at the ceiling and prays for strength.

"I should go soon," he mutters weakly; for his own sake – if he stays much longer, he's going to lose his grip on himself. Rapunzel's face falls immediately, and her hand freezes where it sits against his chest.

"Really? _Now?_" she pleads. "You can't stay a little longer?"

"No," he answers shortly. It's nighttime, but not as late as he usually dares to climb up here, so aside from totally losing his mind and spilling his heart for her like a gutted fish, they could still be caught at any moment. "It's not safe."

"You won't stay til morning? You can set off in the morning," she tries to negotiate. "You can sleep here too, if you need-"

"Rapunzel," he cuts her off before she gets too far ahead of yourself. "You know we can't risk that." She bites her lip uncomfortably, she _knows_, but it doesn't stop her asking.

"It wouldn't _be _a risk if-" she begins in a hurry, words tumbling over each other, "-if we were m-"

"No," Eugene interrupts sharply, and holds a finger over her lips. "Honey, you know the rules." She nods despondently – she knows the rules. There's no talking about the _m-word_, not even if he's leaving. That particular word was banned soon after Rapunzel had returned to her family; everything seemed so perfect, and it looked like the next obvious step, that's how it happened in all her storybooks. _Marriage_.

But Eugene flat-out refused to entertain even the discussion of it. It was too soon, he said, too soon to even _think _about it; they'd barely known each other a week, and she was only just of age _to _marry, let alone be thinking seriously about it. It was a point that no amount of attrition could affect, no matter how hard she'd wheedled, cajoled, negotiated or even begged. He simply would not give.

It wasn't that Eugene didn't want to settle – he'd love nothing more than marrying her, together until death do them part – again – becoming a prince, getting his castle; not to mention being able to kiss her in public, to see her alone without needing to sneak about, and... everything else.

But it isn't _for_ his sake, it's for hers. He is experienced in the world, he's seen and done most of what there is to see and do, while she's only just getting to know it. She's too young – for him _and _for marriage, so Eugene refuses to put a ring on her and trap her down, not until she's had a chance to be free; not until their relationship has had time to settle. Not until he's sure she wouldn't be happier with someone else.

Because their relationship has obstacles, that much is glaringly obvious. He's from the wrong background, he's older, and he's the first man she's _ever_ seen. So he cannot help wondering if there are others – others who might be better for her. Sure, he doesn't want or intend to step aside if someone else came along, but he honestly couldn't bear to give everything to her on a plate if she might... _grow_ out of him, or even worse – fall in love with someone else, someone far better for her than he is. He doesn't feel worthy – knows he isn't worthy, and a consistent and vocal doubt in his mind reminds him that there must be men who _are._

"Don't worry," he consoles when she is silent and hurt. "I'm _coming back_, I promise," he states again, and settles his hands on her shoulders. "You'll be fine." He's firm, because she does need to learn how to be fine on her own. She's too used to having one figure in her life that gives her everything, who looks after her. He knows first-hand she's more than capable at handling herself, but she's not confident enough to know it yet.

"I will?" she says softly, questioning herself more than him.

"Yes," he insists. "Maybe it'll be good for you, even."

"I wish I could go with you," she says aversively; she doesn't want to be alone, she feels small and incapable and helpless when she's alone.

"That would look pretty bad," he points out. "We both disappear at the same time? It'll look like I've kidnapped you."

"Or like we've el-" she begins, and then stops abruptly when he fixes her with a serious look; _eloped _is just as undiscussable a word as _marriage_. "Fine," she sighs, lowering her head, accepting what she cannot change. She trusts that if Eugene says he's coming back, he's coming back _no matter what_. He's come back for her through near and _actual _death before.

"Thank you," he breathes with relief; it means a lot that she accepts his decision, even if she doesn't fully understand, as leaving her on bad terms would be unbearable. "I really should go," he says regretfully. "The sooner I go, the sooner I can come back."

"Okay," she accepts brokenly. She'll let him go, maybe not happily, but certainly not without saying goodbye _properly_. She reaches up and wraps one hand around his neck, one resting on the side of his face, fitting neatly around his ear, and pulls him down to her level.

Even she knows no goodbye between lovers is complete without a kiss, and she won't have a half-there, held-back kiss this time. She doesn't want the kisses that make her fear he's losing interest, like he doesn't to be with her any longer than he has to. She wants to really _feel _him, to know he still wants her.

So she kisses him hard, almost hangs from him, and Eugene resists for only a moment before he loses the internal battle, and his fingers dig into her desperately as he forgets about everything else, loses himself; he twists her head to one side, lips part and he reaches for her like a parched plant for water, only he can't seem to ever quench the thirst and just keeps drinking.

Eventually he forces his mouth to close, bites down on his lips to stop himself, and pulls away from her, a tortured expression as part of his mind actively tries to throttle the other half.

"Goodbye, then," she says reluctantly, and Eugene looks at her blankly for a second, finding it hard to think; he has to blink several times and take a deep breath before he's capable of speaking coherently again, as the sense of reality slowly seeps back into his mind. At last he fixes her with a clear look, but his farewell is overwhelmingly underwhelming.

"See ya."

She nods, and then they longingly separate; she fetches her braided hair so he can get down, and he walks over to the balcony lost in thought.

He wonders if he should say something, if it'll help comfort or reassure her. He knows _it's_ true, feels it more certainly than he's ever felt anything before in his life, but he doesn't want to hit her with that before it's right; she's in deep enough with him already, he doesn't want to start bogging her down even more.

So he stands on the edge of the balcony, waiting to go – neither of them says a word, but it feels like a constantly ongoing conversation between her body and his – until eventually he decides they're in too deep already, it can't _possibly _get any worse.

"Hey Rapunzel," he says softly, and she looks up in question. "Goodbye." He pauses for a single moment, not even enough time to take a breath. "I love you."

Then he drops, sliding down too fast to catch her reaction, but as he's half-way to the ground, he hears her voice ricocheting down after him.

"Eugene!" she screams into the night – she can't see him any more, but he's listening, and who _cares_ who can hear them she'd scream it in the middle of town square if he let her._ "I love you too!"_

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><p>For once a disgustingly sweet ending to a chapter. See I <em>do <em>have a soul! It's made of marshmallow fluff =D

This chapter goes out to my gal Mint who might not even read this anyway, but she _loves _the angst and I wrote this thinking 'Oh my god she would SO be all over this'.

_Reviews are awesome, it's basically just an excuse for me to chat with most of you about nonsensical Tangled-things like why I hate the Kingdom being called Corona, latin origins for said Kindom, and why Eugene would never EVER join the Royal Guards.  
><em>


	6. The Runaway

This chapter grew a lot especially with Pascal added in. Still trying to get the hang of the lil fellah.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~6~

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><p>Rapunzel is calm after Eugene leaves. She's fine, happy even – he <em>loves <em>her, how can she be unhappy when he's just told her that? She takes a deep breath, smiles as she walks back inside. If he believes she will be fine on her own, she trusts that he is right.

Pascal creeps out of his voyeuristic place against one of her walls, blending out of a painting and clicking until she comes to collect him.

"I'm fine," she tells her pet, and he eyes her thoughtfully. "No really, I am. He's right, I'll be fine without him. Probably." Pascal nods, and gives a few thoughtfully whizzing sounds. "I don't _need_ him," she protests. "I just... just like having him around. He makes me feel safe."

Pascal turns in a circle on her hand and stands up on his back legs, turning a shocking shade of scarlet, then black.

"I know mo... _she _made me feel safe too," Rapunzel admits. "It's not the same with Eugene." Pascal watches. "It's _not_." She means it; Gothel made her feel safe by convincing her the world outside was evil and dangerous, that she was the only person Rapunzel could trust. Eugene doesn't do that, he wants her to go outside and live for herself, and if something bad _does _happen, he'll protect her.

In spite of Pascal's fussing and interrogation, she sleeps well that night, a smile on her face. Her parents both remark on the lift in her mood the next day, as she spends the majority of it singing around the palace and helping servants with their chores. She still rises early out of habit, and enjoys the routine housekeeping that keeps the castle functioning. However, it isn't more than a day later – when the ache of missing Eugene has crept in and poisoned her with melancholy in the slow, tedious evening – that everything comes crashing down.

She's sitting with her parents in their family room, curled by a fire to keep the cold weather away, playing a formidable game of draughts with her mother. The King and Queen were amazed by the numerous talents their daughter revealed upon settling into palace life; in spite of everything that happened, she appeared to have grown up a very accomplished young lady. But soon their calm is disturbed, a stone thrown through the fragile glass of happiness.

"Your Highness!" the Captain of the Guard bellows, barging through the door without warning, which is never a good sign. The King looks up from his armchair, setting his book on his knee to show he's listening. "Flynn Rider has struck again!" the uniformed man rushes, and Rapunzel lets out a shocked cry.

"No," she gasp. "It can't be!"

"Are you sure?" questions the King immediately, looking at the Captain and then over to his daughter.

"Yes, sir," the Captain says sternly. "My men are searching for Rider now, we should have him back in chains before sun-"

"_Back?_" the King interrupts, and the Captain hesitates. "To whom do you refer to by 'Rider', Captain?" he inquires, and then offers up the suggestion they are all thinking of. "Eugene Fizherbert? Have you further reason to suspect him in this crime?"

The Captain has clearly been caught out – they have jumped to their conclusions – but it isn't the look from the King that worries him the most – it's the glare coming from Rapunzel in the corner. He had no idea the Lost Princess could look so terrifying; had she a frying pan in hand, he would seriously fear for his safety.

"I... I didn't... you see..." the Captain stutters.

"How dare you!" Rapunzel snaps suddenly, and jumps up to stride towards the Captain. "You don't even _want _to prove Eugene innocent, do you? All you're interested in is-"

"Rapunzel, please," her father interrupts, his voice even and soothing; it tells her to be calm, not to loose her temper, and to trust in him. "Things may easily be righted," he says with a warm sense of assurance. "Where is Eugene now? With an alibi things may be quickly resolved," he explains, but then sees the fear and anxiety in Rapunzel's eyes.

"He's... I... I don't know," his daughter confesses softly, the truth escaping her lips. "He's gone away..."

"Did he not say where?" her mother questions, her tone mixed with concern and disbelief.

"He said... he didn't know," she admits, and wishes that Eugene had stayed longer – just long enough to be here, because she's not stupid and knows how this looks.

"_Didn't know?" _the Captain inquires sceptically. "How can he not know where he is going?"

"He couldn't say because it... it was a secret," confesses Rapunzel, but then turns her eyes up on the Captain. "But he didn't do it," she tells him surely. "Whoever 'Flynn Rider' is, it _isn't_ Eugene."

"Can you be sure, Princess?" he asks – respectfully in appearance, but it is clear how little he thinks of her opinions. "You cannot deny it is suspicious. He is unable to give an alibi on the night of the first crime, and then disappears in secrecy just before a second occurs."

"It does seem curious," remarks Rapunzel's mother, and her daughter whirls around to face her, hurt.

"_Mother_!" she rushes in upset, then realises what she has called her and feels a stab of guilt. "Mom," she restarts more gently. "Not you too?" She stares at her parent, who looks back with disappointment.

"I don't know what to think," the Queen confesses, and looks down to the checkers board uncomfortably.

"Why doesn't anyone believe in Eugene?" Rapunzel demands, fraught and getting moreso as she goes on. "Didn't he bring me back? Didn't he _die_ to free me! What more does he have to DO to prove he's a good person!" She finishes only just below a scream, stopping when she feels a pressure on her shoulder, turning to see her father by her side. He shushes her, the warm comforting weight of his hand enclosing her anger.

"I may not believe wholly in Eugene," he begins cautiously, addressing the whole room, but seeing his daughter's face start to fall, "_but_," he interjects, "I believe in you, child. If you trust in him and his innocence, so will I."

The King is not a foolish man; he isn't blinded by care for his daughter, he has reasoning for his thoughts. He's seen himself how much Eugene loves her, and unless he has gone clinically insane, doesn't think it likely he would lie to Rapunzel, nor return to crime. A man who wants to marry a princess didn't risk it all on something so stupid as petty crime.

"Father," she gushes, throwing her arms around his wide chest to hug him in thanks; the smell of his robes strange yet nostalgic. He tenderly pats her on the back, and pries her away with a smile, though it fades to his usual stoicism as he faces the Captain again.

"You will come and speak with me in private, Captain," he states. "This is not suitable bedtime material for my family." He holds a directive hand out and guides the guard from the room, overlooking the defiant, betrayed expression he receives from his daughter.

The two men stride purposefully down a hallway until the King is quite sure they are out of earshot – and not being followed by princess or chameleon alike.

"Now, Captain, what evidence have you to support Rider's involvement in this crime?" the King questions once they've come to a stop.

"Rider identified himself at the scene again, and the description given by his victims matches Judge Gable's," answers the Captain proudly, his moustache bristling as he grins.

"The Judge has given an account of his attacker?" echoes the King suspiciously. "He is well enough?"

"Why yes, sir, a couple of days ago," the Captain replies, a little more unsure of himself. "It matches the-"

"Why didn't you inform me?" the King interrupts, and he is not pleased or patient in his tone. "As soon as the Judge was well enough, he was to identify Fitzherbert." As emotionally driven as his daughter's claims may be, the King sees the truth in her accusation – old rivalries have died hard, and it seems his men don't _want_ to prove Eugene innocent; they would rather finish the job they were unable to the first time. He sighs world-wearily. Such things cannot be helped.

"You have failed to adhere to orders, Captain, which cannot be overlooked," he warns with disappointment, but continues before the man can become too disheartened. "However, things may still be fixed. Carry on the search for the criminal behind these crimes, but hold Eugene Fitzherbert isn no more in suspicion than any other individual."

"Understood, Your Highness," the Captain murmurs, the resentment not well-disguised in his tone. "I am glad to report we're already well on our way now," he adds more hopefully. "During the most recent attack some of my men were summoned in time, and we were able to wound Ri... the criminal... before he fled into the forest. They are searching the area now."

"I hope for my daughter's sake that you did not fire upon the wrong man," the King points out; while he doesn't believe Eugene is responsible for the new crimes, he understands the young man could be easily mistaken for the true thief if he were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and would certainly flee and add to his suspicion.

"Of course we didn't," boasts the Captain. "The Kingdom Guard is a _pillar_ of order and righteousness, Your Highness."

"Indeed, Captain," he agrees with a little reservation. "I hope so." He pauses reverently, and appears to slip off into thought. When he looks up again, the soldier is still there. "Oh," he murmurs forgetfully. "Dismissed."

He returns to the family room and rejoins his wife and child, attempting to pick up where their evening left off as if nothing has happened, but he can easily see how worried Rapunzel is; she fidgets and squirms, then lapses into total motionlessness, staring off into the distance like she might suddenly burst into tears. He decides it's best not to tell her of the full events of the crime; she does not need any more material to add to her endless list of worries.

Instead he assures here everything will be all right, and hopes that a night's sleep will restore her – that things will look better in the morning.

Unfortunately that plan involves actually getting a night's sleep, which Rapunzel does not, laying sleepless in bed, tossing and turning as worries stampede through her mind. She's sure he's trying to catch the Flynn Rider impersonator, but that person is obviously dangerous, not to mention the guards being after him, and she becomes scared for his safety. She thinks of him cold and alone in the forest, no magic or miracles to save him this time, and fear makes her sick and wired at the same time.

She cannot bear to move but can't lie still, and wishes she could have gone with him, but of course he doesn't need any _more _help looking like a criminal. She feels trapped again, unable to leave her room because she has been told to stay inside – where it is safe, away from the dangers of the real world.

And although Rapunzel is happy and grateful for all the things she has, as she rises from her bed and walks to the window, staring up at the moon with dark-rimmed eyes and wondering if Eugene is watching too – she has that same feeling that kept her in Gothel's tower, a cold stone sitting right in the pit of her stomach.

She wants so many things. She wants to find Eugene, make sure he's safe – she wants to be able to run off in the middle of the night without warning, to do what her heart tells her to do, whenever it tells her to do it. More than anything, she realises she'd like to be completely free again, to leave behind being the Lost Princess, even if it's only for a little while.

She puts her hands on the balcony rail and looks down; then it hits her – really, what's stopping her? Eugene or her parents aren't here to physically hold her back, and if she runs away of her own accord they couldn't hold him responsible. She leans over and looks down, considering the trip to the ground, but freezes, realising the real reason she's hesitating – she's scared.

She's never been alone before, not properly. When she escaped the first time, Eugene was there, but if she goes now it's just her against the world. It makes her terrified_ – _she doesn't know if she _can _do this by herself. Rapunzel thinks of Eugene and remembers his words to her. She wants desperately to believe him, but when she looks down and sees nothing but black, she doubts.

Doubt is a familiar friend to her; a sick helpless feeling she let rule her life for too long. One she won't be a victim to any more. She can do this – she _will _do this.

In a fit of energy, she whirls around and runs back inside – charges to her cupboard and pulls out her braided hair, loops it over her shoulder. She pushes through her things and pulls out a long cloak with a hood, pulls it far over her face and checks in the mirror. It'll help if no one recognises her on the way, and thinks to change her clothes too, abandoning royal colours for something plainer. Then she packs a bag with some basic provisions, hoping they'll be enough to keep her going for a night or two.

Her mad bustling wakes Pascal, who watches her for all of a minute before he erupts in a fit of noise, whistling and jumping up and down, turning a rainbow of colours. Rapunzel rushes to collect him, then picks up a pair of scissors and starts shredding one of her petticoats into long strips – for bandages, just in case.

"Yes I'm running away," she answers Pascal. "I decided just now." The chameleon is not impressed. "Eugene might get _hurt_ – what if he's hurt already? I have to find him." Pascal shakes his head. "I know he's probably fine," she admits, "but still. I don't want to stay here any more. Not with all this... this... you know," she sighs despondently. She can't stand the castle's atmosphere any more, the suspicion, the cramped tension, mistrust and unhappiness in the air.

"It's not just for Eugene," she explains to her pet. "It's for me too. I _want _to go. Why should't I? I'm allowed to, it's my life isn't it?" Pascal is quiet for a moment as he considers her, and then he sighs, nods dolefully. He hops from her arm and crawls over to a stack of blank paper she sketches on, he mimes writing.

"You want me to leave a note?" she asks. "Good idea!" She scribbles a hasty note, nothing special, it simply explains she's running away for a little bit – _alone_ – and not to worry about her, that she loves everyone and will be back soon. She folds it up and hides it under her pillow, and then coaxes Pascal onto a finger and holds him up to her face.

"Now Pascal," she says seriously. "I need you to do a very serious job for me." The lizard bristles and braces himself demonstratively. "When they come looking, you need to make sure mom and dad find that note." He nods confidently. "Okay, good. Then I need you to stay here," she continues, but instantly Pascal squeaks in protest.

"No, you have to stay, Pascal, it's important," she insists. "I need you to keep an eye on things, on the Captain especially, as well as all the other guards. They could get up to _anything_, so you have to keep them in line for me – can you do that?" Pascal is quietly contemplative, and then finally he nods, rearing up and pounding one paw into the other – as a chameleon, he's a perfect spy.

"Good boy," she thanks energetically, tickling him fondly as she gets to her feet and heads outside.

Slipping the rope off her shoulder, she slings it around the balustrade and gets ready to go, setting Pascal down nearby. She _is _going, she tells herself, when she clings to the edge and a voice tells her to get both feet back on solid ground right this instant. It doesn't matter that she can't see the ground below, she knows it's there. She just needs a little faith.

"I'm going," she announces, hears Pascal whistle at her. "I _am_." It occurs to her at that point this is exactly the sort of thing Eugene is always telling her about – living through snap decisions and mistakes; going out to experience the world regardless of the danger. She's afraid, but also a little excited.

"Here I go," she whispers, and then shuts her eyes tight and drops. The braid slides effortlessly through her hands as she descends, then ends a foot or so from the ground.

She pauses, holding herself in the air for a moment, and then plants both feet firmly on the floor and whips a shockwave up the rope to the balcony, pulling the rest of it up and around until the braid comes spiralling down on top of her in perfect circles.

She's done it.

It isn't hard to get from the castle grounds out onto the streets, the princess discovers, and soon finds herself running wildly through the sleeping town, a few figures still going about their business late at night. She knows exactly where she's heading, arrives panting at her destination, heart pounding like a drum. The stables of the Kingdom Guard.

She sneaks inside by slinging her hair over the wall until it anchors on something study, then just walks up and over. It did take a little while to adjust to the way her hair moved as one single braid, but just because it isn't attached to her head doesn't mean she's forgotten how to control it.

Inside the stables she passes by rows of doors, each embellished with its occupant's name, and eventually finds her target at the far end – the finest stable, with a white-painted door and gold lettering: MAXIMUS. It isn't locked.

Quietly, she pulls open the top half of the door.

"Maximus?" she whispers into the hay-strewn space inside. "Max, are you there?" A loud snorting sound and rustling follows, and Rapunzel gasps with relief. Eventually the white horse clatters to the front, and recognising her at once, turns his head to give her a serious look.

"Max," she pleads, "I think Eugene is in trouble. We have to save him!"

The horse looks at her, and then whinnies a loud braying laugh. Rapunzel looks around in alarm at the noise, and then reaches out to clap the horse's mouth shut.

"SHHH!" she hisses. "Please," she begs. "You don't have to do it for him, but at least do it for me. Help me find him." She fixes the stallion with a big-eyed look, and his lower lip starts to tremble; there's no animals on record as able to resist the princess's charms for long. "If you don't come with me, I'll go by myself," she tells him stubbornly, and that breaks his resolve; he hangs his head and nods.

"Oh thank you!" she rushes, throwing her arms around his neck and then suddenly hushing herself. _"I mean,"_ she whispers. "_Thanks_."

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><p>This is another longer chapter, maybe it's a treat or maybe your EYES ARE MELTING WITH THE INEPTITUDE. I'm kidding.<p>

You can review the story, or just leave any-old chatter about Tangled in general because OH MAN I love talking Tangled with you guys. =D


	7. The Boy

I have to say it's honestly the readers and reviewers who are making these updates so quick. Every time I hit a quiet patch or slump, I get a bunch of awesome chatter from all of you and I'm like YEAH I'M GONNA GO WRITE/EDIT A WHOLE NEW CHAPTER.

EDIT: DOCUMENT MANAGER HATES ME OR SOMETHING I FIXED THE WEIRD DOUBLE-START THING.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~7~

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><p>Rapunzel is aware that she has a slightly overactive imagination – okay, a <em>very <em>overactive imagination – but she needed it when she lived in the tower, needed to make the same small space bearable for eighteen long years.

Back then it was an asset, but now she's suffering for a mind with a serious case of the fidgets, because every small rustle of leaves sounds like anything from bandits to bears. Snapping twigs _might_ be harmless woodland creatures, but to her mind it's the footsteps of a monstrous goliath, lurking just behind the shadows, pursuing her relentlessly – just waiting until she's far enough from the city to pounce.

She grips Max's reins so tight her knuckles blanch and huddles over him in, her hood casting shadows far over her face, streaked with lines of darkness cast from the bare trees around them. The sun was long gone before she even set out, but the moon is large and brilliant, throwing a draining light over their path; she wonders if running away in the thick of night was such a good idea, but then there's no helping it now, so she clings to Max and pushes on.

She's been riding for a couple of hours, scouring the forests that border the Kingdom in the hopes that Eugene hasn't strayed too far, but she hasn't seen so much as a chipmunk. Everything is cold and dead, hiding from the winter that will be fully upon them soon.

"Well, Max, this isn't working out quite like I imagined..." she remarks, her voice scared and shallow, shaking as she tries to sound braver than she feels – than she _is_. Max turns to look her in the eye understandingly, then reverses direction back towards the city, but a fierce tug on his reins brings him around. "No," she insists with cast-iron stubbornness. "We're not going back until I find him."

Max sighs in a clearly disappointed fashion, then reluctantly plods further into the forest. The moonlight is bright enough to see, but only just, and eventually Rapunzel gives up the plight. She's more likely to miss what she's looking for in the darkness, than to find it among the inky shadows.

"Okay," she relents with a stroke of the horse's neck, clinging to him tight as she turns her back against all the demons she poctures just out of sight. "We can rest for now."

Max whinnies his approval, and then starts to rummage through the nearby undergrowth for a clearing big enough camp in. They come across a small ring of trees with enough space to sleep, littered with leaves and branches from where a large tree was felled. Max is ruffling through a pile of debris, shovelling with his nose to clear a space, when he bumps into something that lets out a stifled yelp, huddled against a sodden decaying log.

Rapunzel shrieks in fright, and then realises the sound isn't threatening, it's weak, human, and she almost falls from Max's back in shock, scrambling over to the source of the noise.

"Hello?" she cries worriedly, and although her heart lurches, she knows instinctively it isn't Eugene. She brushes away a littering of leaves, squinting through the twilight to make out the form of a boy, curled up and shivering against a thick tree branch. He lets out a frail moan when she lays hands on him.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, Max didn't know what he was doing," she says apologetically, pulling back her hands. "Wait, are you hurt?" She reaches for him again, and discovers he is ice-cold to the touch. "You're freezing," she rushes, her panic only growing when she grabs for one of his arms and it feels damp; then her hand comes away stained dark – blood. "You're _bleeding!_" She seizes the boy by his tunic and pulls him away from the log, sitting him upright as his eyes screw up in pain, a groan sliding out between his clenched teeth.

"Max, what do I do? What do I do!" she chatters in a frenzy, putting her hands to the boy's face and trying to warm his stone cold cheeks. The horse only looks at her with a stunned expression, but then snaps into action. With a snort he drops to the floor, laying down and then gesturing with his head for Rapunzel to slump the boy against his warm body.

"_No,_" the boy moans barely consciously, as Rapunzel drags him across and tucks him against Max's belly, but she ignores him and pulls off her cloak, covers him with it.

"Right," she announces with far more confidence than she feels, and stands to look around the small clearing, eerie as the moon paints a skeletal pattern on the ground. "I'll go find some firewood." She pauses and looks over her shoulder at Max questioningly, who nods to let her know she's doing fine.

Gathering as much wood as she can fit in her arms, Rapunzel dashes back to the clearing and dumps it in a disorganised heap. She rifles through her bag and finds matches, striking them with shaking hands to set alight a handful of dried leaves. The fire grows, crackling as it catches, and starts giving out real heat once she adds bigger logs, dewy so that they give off a thick smoke, hissing and whistling with steam as they burn.

Then she turns her attention to the boy, crawls closer to him and looks in the firelight for the source of the bleeding. It's not as bad as she thought, thankfully – he's cut his arm, as well as his leg, but the rest of him seems fine, and the bleeding looks to have slowed. Probably because he is so _cold, _so she drags him closer to the fire and peels back the torn fabric around his wounds, tips some of her water over them and presses down the bandages she packed – she needed them after all. It's rough, but it'll have to do for now – she's not a doctor or a miracle worker – no magic hair any more, and healing tears aren't power she can call upon willingly.

"Shh, shh," she coos when the boy whines with pain as she cleans his injuries. "It's okay, I promise." She wads her bag under his head, wraps her cloak tighter around his cold, hurt body, and slowly smooths down his hair with the back of her hand. Before she even realises, she starts to sing – just as Gothel used to for her, and then she for herself.

"Flower gleam and glow..." She's just trying to calm him, and it seems to work, because his breathing evens – there's no magic to the words, just a lullaby for a frightened boy. "... Let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine..."

Although she fights it, the song conjures thoughts of Eugene, rising and popping bubbles in her mind, making her bitterly wish she could bring him back with something as simple as a song. When she looks back down at the boy, he's asleep, but his face is warmer and he no longer shivers. She breathes a huge sigh of relief, and then realises what just happened – what she did. She _rescued _someone, just like that, and in spite of the grim circumstances, it makes her smile. Eugene was right, she thinks, she _is _all right on her own – she can even help others.

Rapunzel leans back against Max, pats his warm flank and congratulates them both on a job well done. Although she tries her best to keep watch over the boy, eventually her eyes will no longer stay open of their own accord, and she curls up close to the fire and sleeps from sheer exhaustion.

In the morning she wakes alone – aside from Max, at least, whose snoring rouses her in the first place. She sits up and realises she is covered by her own cloak; jumping to her feet, she looks wildly for the boy from last night, but sees nothing. The fire smokes, and the rumpled undergrowth by Max's side is empty – she half-wonders if it really happened, if maybe she just imagined the wounded boy to somehow deal with being alone. Because she _is _scared when she's alone; it makes her feel vulnerable and abandoned, like there is no one to stop her from disappearing and never coming back.

She hugs her cloak around her shoulders as she sinks down to the ground, tucks her knees up and wraps her arms around them, rocking back against Max and forcing herself to breathe slowly. Then a rustling comes from the bushes near her and she yelps, leaps clear over Max and cowers, peeking her glassy fear-widened eyes over his haunches at the source of the noise.

"Oh," says a soft voice, "you're awake." He strides into view, arms bundled with wood, and stands in the streaming sunlight, his hair lighting to a rusty red colour, freckles across his nose. She realises he isn't really a boy, he looks her age, and in spite of the bandages around his arm and leg, he walks without a limp. At least she didn't imagine him. She carries on peeking over Max, watching as he walks to the fire and drops handfuls of brittle twigs on the smoking embers, blows on them until the flame catches again.

"I just went for more firewood," he explains meekly, and when he looks at her his eyes are a bright green, like hers. "I don't have any food, but there's a stream nearby, I thought we could boil some water to drink, if you wanted..." he trails off and looks down; he's just trying to help, to repay her. "Thank you," he murmurs, "for last night."

"Oh..." she squeaks bluntly. "No problem." She looks around and sees her bag. "I have some food in there, if you're hungry," she tells him without coming out of her hiding place, pointing over Max's back, who continues to regard the boy suspiciously.

"Okay... but what about you? Aren't you hungry?" he inquires, and her stomach gives an answering rumble, but she remains behind her horse and stares the boy out – she doesn't want to reveal herself any more than she has already, fears that he'll recognise and turns her in. News of anything she does travels fast, so something as sensational as the Lost Princess become _re-_lost would probably have the Kingdom in chaos.

"I'm... not gonna hurt you," he mumbles after a long awkward silence. "Here," he drops his hands and rubs them clean on his shirt, then holds one out to her in greeting. "Nice to meet you." Rapunzel slowly dares to stand up, never taking her eyes off the boy, even as she climbs back over a complaining Max and approaches him.

"You don't... know who I am?" she asks suspiciously, and the boy looks around.

"Should I?" he answers benignly, and then reaches forwards and catches her hand in his. For a moment she tenses, but a split second later realises how silly she's being as he shakes her hand and then lets go again. "What's your name?"

"Uh," she bolts awkwardly. "It's... it's..." She can't tell him her real name, that much she understands, but for the life of her cannot think of anything to say.

"Can't remember your own name?" he jests, but there is a clear mistrust in his voice.

"No, I, uh, just," she mumbles. "It's... really embarrassing," she lies.

"Oh," he says, his face lifting again, as he seems to except the excuse. "Well don't worry, I promise I won't laugh," he tells her, but she says nothing, grasping desperately for a name, _any _name. "Well?" he prompts shortly, so Raopunzel grabs for the only thing she can think of.

"It's Pascal!" she blurts, and then claps her hands over her mouth in horror.

"... Pascal?" he echoes strangely. "Gee, that _is_ kinda weird."

"Um, yeah," Rapunzel mutters, turning bright red with genuine embarrassment.

"Never mind, eh?" he says cheerily. "Nice to meet you, Pascal. So what are you doing out here?" he changes topic quickly, but she isn't much happier. She can't say she's looking for Eugene, because the boy probably knows about the Flynn Rider crimes, so he also might think Eugene was responsible and want him arrested.

"Um..." she replies. "I'm looking for someone," she explains shadily. "I was out here searching for them when I found you."

"Oh right," he says with a warm and sunny smile; his injuries from last night and brush with the biting cold seem far behind him now. "Well I'm mighty glad you did. I thought I was a goner."

"It was nothing, really," she insists, "anyone would've done the same. Although... what were you doing out here? And how did you get hurt?" as the first questions comes, more waterfall after it. "Was it wild animals? Bears? _Bandits!_ Is someone chasing you? Might they come back?" her voice skyrockets in tone, until eventually the boy reaches out and stills her frantically gesturing hands.

"Relax," he interjects. "Nothing like that. I just... uh... fell out of a tree."

"You _fell out of a tree?_" she repeats, and even though Rapunzel is not the most streetwise of people, even she finds it a little strange. "Why were you climbing it? In the middle of the night?"

"Uhh... why not?" he suggests with a shrug, and although instinct tells her something smells fishy – and it's not Max's breath – Rapunzel says nothing. She told him her name was _Pascal _and he believed her, so she suspects that the less questions asked the better off they'll both be. If he has things to hide she better not go prying into his business, or he might start on hers.

"Oh. Okay," she mumbles, and turns away. She goes to her bag and pulls out a paper-wrapped bundle of biscuits – the only food she had in her room when she left. She opens the package and holds it out to the boy, who refuses to take any until she's had her share, then stuffs three at a time into his mouth. Eventually convinced there's no need to be worried, Rapunzel relaxes at last, and settles down to eat.

"You never did tell me your name," she remarks once she's finished, figuring that it can't hurt to ask his name, but the boy almost chokes on his mouthful.

"Fl-" he begins with a strangled cough, and then stares at her so hard she brings her hands to her face, thinking there must be something on it. The boy swallows, then scrubs his mouth with the back of his hand before he hesitatingly answers.

"My name is Francis."

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><p>DOH HO-Yeah this is fairly obvious twist. I'm sure the moment the boy showed up you were all like IT'S FRANCIS DURP, still I figure that at the moment our characters <em>are<em> wandering around the same area, so they're bound to cross paths at some point.

When I say 'biscuits' I am a British person therefore a British-English writer and mean what you Americans know as 'cookies' not some strange kinda toast-thing. I'm sure some people realised from the s's instead of z's and ou's in things. I've got to a stage in my writing career where I refuse to alter my language for the dominant trend. I like my language the way it is.

2:30am is definitely the best time to update chapters. Oh yes. Bla bla bla reviews =D


	8. The Song

This chapter was slower for me because there seemed to be an awful lot of awkwardness in it. I'm vaguely sure that we've passed the half-way point of this fic now. Probably.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~8~

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><p>Rapunzel wishes she were braver. She doesn't <em>want<em> to be nervous and afraid when she's alone, but she can't seem to help it, her insecurities always get the best of her. Just having someone, _anyone_ with her makes a difference; once Francis is around, she realises that she _isn't _scared any more. it's that simple.

So when her newfound companion offers to help her look for 'her friend', she guiltily accepts. While Francis never explained what he was doing in the forest in the first place, it can't have been that important, because he almost trips over himself offering his services as a guide, claims to know all the forest paths inside-out.

Although Rapunzel has some questions – well, a lot of questions, and she knows there's more to him than he gives off – she can't bring herself to ask, because she worries it might make him change his mind; all she wants is for him to stay until she finds Eugene. On her own she doubted if she could really do this – do _anything_ – but with Francis helping, she feels quietly confident, feels safe.

"So... mind if I ask who we're meant to be looking for?" asks Francis after they've packed up and set off; she rides on Max's back while he leads the disgruntled horse by the nose.

"Um..." she hesitates to answer – if she reveals she's looking for a however-falsely wanted criminal, her companion might leave, or worse yet, try to turn Eugene in. "Just a friend," she mumbles awkwardly.

"Oh," the boy's face clouds, clearly disappointed she won't answer him, but he doesn't push her any further; they're both too careful keeping their own secrets to pry where they're not wanted "Well," he tries again, searching for something they might actually make conversation out of. "Where are you from?"

"Out of town," Rapunzel settles for eventually. "I returned Kingdom recently." She thinks for a moment, then adds. "I was away for a long time."

"Ah, that accounts for why I've never seen you around before," he hums brightly, scratching his nose and then tugging Max around a sharp corner, setting off in a direction much to the horse's protest. Max attempts to stomp on the boy's feet every time he steers them away from the Kingdom – instead heading deeper into the forest – but Francis somehow manages to avoid him without even noticing.

"I guess," she mumbles; how he's managed to _not_ recognise her seems caught between miraculous good luck and monumental ignorance.

"Yeah, I'm sure I'd remember a face like yours," he adds with a shy smile, peering over his shoulder at Rapunzel, who laughs uncomfortably.

"You seem to know these forests pretty well," she remarks when the silence becomes awkward.

"I played here a lot growing up," he answers. "Although, I don't know how good I'll be at finding something I don't know I'm looking for." He shoots Rapunzel a pointed look, and she flushes with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she pleads with him, eager not to upset her new companion. "Things are just... _complicated_ right now. Once I find, uh – my friend, everything will be all right," she swears, and it's a promise she's making to herself, as well as Francis; the boy heaves a sigh and laughs depreciatingly.

"You can say that again," he huffs with a private understanding, and again hauls Max away from the route home. The horse responds by trying to bite his ear off, which Francis avoids with a shocked air. "This is some badly behaved horse," he exclaims. "Where'd you get a piece like him?"

"Oh no, he's a big softie really," insists Rapunzel with a doting tickle of Max's ears. "He just... doesn't seem to like men very much."

Max grinds to a halt and turns on Rapunzel, eyeballing her in an accusatory fashion – it is not men, _general,_ that he dislikes, just suspicious ones who appear to be up to no good. Which is any man not in uniform as far as _he_ is concerned.

"Gee-up," Francis orders with a firm yank on Max's reins, and the horse snaps for him again, a loud chomp of teeth sounding as he narrowly avoids losing a chunk of his shoulder.

"Jeesh! What's this guy's problem!" he yells, and quick as a flash Rapunzel slides down and puts herself between Francis and the horse; she's more occupied with settling down Max to notice how close she is to her companion, but he does, because he shuffles back a few steps.

"Maybe we should stop for a bit?" she suggests diplomatically, both her hands clamped over Max's jaws to keep him quiet.

"What for?" Francis questions, returning Max's threatening glares with some similarly irate looks of his own.

"Well, you could rest your leg – you _are_ hurt," she suggests.

"I'm fine," he retorts with a sharp tone. "I'm not tired – it's nothing." He claims to be fit, but she's noticed him feeling his wounds and wincing with the pain.

"It's okay, you don't have to put on a brave face," she starts understandingly.

"I'm _not!_" he snaps, and anger flies out of him in a shocking burst – it's enough to make Rapunzel flinch.

"... All right," she says gently. "I was just... don't worry. Let's keep going, Max," she mumbles humbly, but hesitates as she feels his hand on her shoulder, stopping her from moving on.

"Wait, I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I didn't mean to yell."

"It's okay, Francis," she replies. "I shouldn't have fussed so much. _I'm _sorry." He doesn't respond, but stares until Rapunzel looks around questioningly, thinking he's watching something behind her.

"What?" she asks, and he starts to blush.

"Nothing. Sorry," he mutters, and then turns away from her, jumping clumsily into a new topic. "So don't you have folks that are worried about you going off into the forest by yourself?" he asks bluntly, and Rapunzel can't help a sigh, her shoulders sinking into a slouch as she imagines how her parents might be faring back in the Kingdom – she hopes they got her note, and aren't fretting too much.

"I guess... kinda. Probably. My mom and dad... well, I didn't exactly _tell _them I was leaving, More like..."

"Ran away?" he cuts in, and she nods bashfully; but he doesn't seem judgmental, even smiles almost encouragingly.

"I know they'll be worried, but... I _have_ to do this," she insists strongly. "I'm eighteen now, I'm meant to be an adult, right?"

"Sure you are, it's your life isn't it?" he points out brightly. "You should be able to do what you want. That's what _I _always say." The rhetoric sounds comfortingly familiar, and Rapunzel bets that Francis and Eugene would probably get along with such similar approaches to life.

"Yeah... you're right!" she says, bubbling with new surge confidence. "Let's keep going!" She paces forwards with a new boost of enthusiasm, but slows as a thought comes back around on her. "Hey, don't _you_ have parents who'll be worried over you?" she inquires.

"I doubt it," Francis answers with a stony, awkward bitterness. "I don't _have_ a family, not one who care about a nobody like me." A sudden self-hatred seethes from him as he speaks – in spite of his attempts to seem lighthearted – so Rapunzel stops, turns around to face the boy.

"Wait a sec," she says, and grabs him by the shoulders before he can walk past her, forces his eyes up to meet hers. "Don't talk like that about yourself. I bet there's plenty of people who care about you," she insists, but Francis shrugs emotionlessly, then twists away.

"Sure, whatever. Let's just keep looking," he says sourly, turning from her and pushing ahead through the woods; but he doesn't go more than a few steps before he turns around again and comes back. "I'm sorry, Pascal," he gushes suddenly, and it takes Rapunzel a second to realise he's talking to her. "I just... it's – it's complicated and... and I-"

"It's okay," she cuts in, setting a hand on his shoulder again – she can see he's conflicted, as she knows a fair bit about conflict herself. "I didn't mean to be nosy, it's really none of my business. If you want to talk, I'm here – but only if you want to," she makes sure to emphasise, and sees a faint smile return to his face.

"Thanks," he breathes, and she can actually feel his body relaxing; he dares to smile openly, and tilts his head slightly to the side. "Yunno, I think you must be the nicest person I ever met."

"Ohh... you're just saying that," she evades, turning her hands up in a cheery shrug. "Anyone would do the same."

"No they wouldn't," he insists. "Really, you're amazing, Pascal." Rapunzel carries on smiling for a moment, trying quite hard not to start giggling, but then her humour dampens suddenly, and she withdraws her hand.

"We should keep looking," she says quietly; as they carry on walking, she wonders if she should have been a little clearer about what kind of _friend _she was looking for, but then quickly denies anything her intuition tells her.

The last thing she wants to do is make assumptions about Francis, or worse yet, hurt his feelings. Not when he's already so sensitive and volatile. She hopes it's nothing, that it'll go away.

The sooner she finds Eugene the better – once he's back everything will make sense again; the tangle of problems will come loose. Everything will be as it _should_ be. Rapunzel resolves even more desperately to find Eugene no matter what.

However, she _doesn't _find him, even though she and Francis search all day – when night falls again it's still just her, Max and Francis walking in what feel like endless circles. Eventually they're forced to surrender to the darkness, and settle down to camp for the night.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Rapunzel asks when she notices Francis sat by the campfire, his posture tight and determined, showing no intention to rest.

"I wouldn't be able to," he says glibly. "I'm gonna keep watch, you sleep."

Rapunzel zips upright and fixes the boy with an intimidating look – something she must have learned from Gothel, because it sends chills all the way across the back of her target's neck.

"No way," she states point-blank. "You need to rest _just_ as much as I do – in fact, you're hurt so you need it even _more_. Max can keep watch for us, he'll wake at the first signs of trouble." She pats the tired, snoozing horse on the flank and he awakes with a shrill whinny, then glares at Francis as if he is somehow responsible. "I'm not moving til you sleep," Rapunzel adds, until eventually Francis groans, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Jeesh, here I am trying to do the gentlemanly thing," he murmurs evasively. "I don't reckon I can sleep anyways," he argues. "I've got too much to think about."

"Well, better to sleep on it than stay up worrying – it never helps me, so I bet it won't help you either," she tells him firmly.

"C'mon, what are you, my mom?" he whines, but she refuses to give up.

"It's easy, just lie down and close your eyes," she instructs, as if the motions are unfamiliar to him.

"All right, all right," he surrenders in the end, "but on one condition." He hesitates for a moment, like he's trying to decide what to say right down to the word. "Because, it'd help... I mean, I'd be able to – if you could... well, sing again?" he fumbles out at last.

Rapunzel looks aghast – almost ashamed that he remembered her singing at all. It wasn't something she'd thought about, she did it unconsciously. It's a habit she finds curiously hard to beat – whenever she sees someone injured, the words will come tumbling from her lips before she can think to stop them.

"Uh... did I sing?" she mumbles in embarrassment. "Maybe you just dreamt it."

"Aw c'mon," he berates. "I knowI didn't imagine it. It's not embarrassing, you sing really well – it's just a lullaby, right?"

But it _isn't _just a song, it's responsible for everything she's ever loved or feared – that song and its magic were what took her from her home and parents, kept her locked away for nearly two decades, kept her with Gothel – isolated and lied to. Yet it also protected her, gave her strength – it saved Eugene when nothing else could; her hair, the song and their magic have made her who she is – shaped her life before she was even born. When Rapunzel is scared, hurt, or alone, the words are still her comfort.

She doesn't want to sing on command, like Gothel used to make her – like a songbird in a cage, but Francis looks at her in such a cajoling way that she dithers over the decision. It's not that she doesn't want to say no, so much as she doesn't want to explain _why._

In the end, she figures maybe it's better to give in to his request and get it over with; it's easier than making excuses, or worse yet, lying.

"... Okay," she relents weakly, "but you _have_ to lie down and close your eyes," she insists, so he does as she says and settles on his side by the fire, resting his head on his hands; he looks much more like a child that way – like he was when she first found him.

"Whenever you're ready," he murmurs, and he sounds gentle, not hard and demanding like Gothel; it's enough to convince Rapunzel it isn't the same, so she takes a deep breath.

"_Flower gleam and glow..._" she forces timidly, but from there it's easy. She's learned the song by reflex; she could – and probably has – sung it in her sleep. "_Let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine..._"

She thinks inevitably of Eugene coming back – of things being put right. Everything as it should be, everyone happy. It helps, and she relaxes herself, until her own eyes drift closed.

"_Heal what has been hurt, change the fates' design, save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mi-" _

She breaks off when she hears sharp, frantic rustling from the woods around her, and coils into a ball with a shriek of fright. Francis responds to her cry and sits up with a yelp, looking around wildly for the disturbance.

Then comes the shout. One word, one voice, and Rapunzel's heart shoots all the way up her throat into her head and pounds there until she's dizzy. Without warning, she leaps to her feet and pelts towards the place the voice came from.

_"Rapunzel?.!_" is the single disbelieving cry, and then he bursts into sight, hair matted with twigs and two days stubble shadowing his face.

"EUGENE!" she screams, and flies at him like a wave crashing over the shore. She launches clear off the ground and lands around his chest; his arms flail in shock as she clambers, toes and fingers digging into any grip they can find on him. "Eugeneisitreallyyou? Areyouokay? Areyouhurtanywhere?" she chatters in language unintelligible to human ears, wrapped around him like a manic spider-monkey.

"Rapun-" he begins, but finds her thumb hooked into the corner of his mouth and tugged open as she peers at his _teeth_ for an unknown reason. "Rampumzel," he mumbles through her frantic inspection.

"Hey!" he barks at last, yanking her hand out of his mouth with mild distaste. "Calm _down._"

"But Eugene!" she chirrups in protest. "I thought-youwere-killedor-shotor-drowned-orhanged-or-"

"_Words," _Eugene pleads with her. "Use your words, Rapunzel."

Instead she kisses him, hard and clumsy on the mouth, which isn't exactly what Eugene asked her to do, but he can't find it in himself to complain.

However, while one part of him has missed her so much he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her so conveniently-placed body and just _go_ with it, he has a lot of questions he'd like to know the answers to, so eventually pries her away and snatches a breath.

Then he hears the noises ahead – Rapunzel isn't alone, he's guessed that much already, and they both freeze in anticipation; her legs are wrapped around his waist, one of his hands pushing one of _hers_ away from his face, the other holding her against him.

"Eugene?" a young, male voice asks suspiciously, and Rapunzel becomes a bundle of thrashing limbs again as she slings herself half-way around him, points over Eugene's shoulder to her new friend. He's not entirely sure how it happens, because one minute she's facing him, the next she's hawking over his shoulder.

"How did you do tha-" he begins, but she cuts him off just as the boy runs into view.

"Eugene," she interrupts loudly; not noticing his brow crease for a second, before his eyes widen and his jaw drops. "This is my new friend..."

"Francis-"

"_Francis," _they say identically. Realisation hits Francis like a hard slap in the face.

"Eugene?" he screams, staggering back a step. He stares at Rapunzel wrapped around her '_friend_' like a scarf, like it's the most natural thing in the world to her, and a moment later realises what he called her – who she is. _"Wait, ___Rapunzel!" __All the pieces click together at once, and he takes another stumbling step – then, when shock evaporates from him, he puts a hand on a tree and quickly turns.

"HEY!" Eugene belts, trying to sprint after Francis as he flees. "_Wait!"_ he bellows, but it's too late, because the boy is nothing but a shadow disappearing into the forest.

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><p>When you see '!.?' it's because has ingeniously decided that double punctuation marks are a no-no or something, therefore making the use of the interrobang (or nearest typed equivalent) impossible. Which makes me sad in my grammar heart.<p>

Something-something I like reviews because every single person who's reviewed this story without fail has had something interesting to say. I'm not kidding, you check them yourself.


	9. The Man

I've been on a trip to bonny Scotland, the side-effect of which is that travelling makes me prolifically inspired to write, which is good for you guys so I guess everyone wins.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~9~

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><p>Eugene and Rapunzel talk fast and simultaneously, so absolutely nothing makes any sense at all.<p>

"What!-"

"_How-"_

"When?"

"Who?"

"Why-"

"Rapunzel!" he cries in an attempt to get the upper hand over the situation.

"Eugene!" she mimics back, just as set on exactly the same goal.

"Okay," he tells her, "just slow down. Tell me how you-"

"-know Francis and-"

"-what you're doing out here in the-"

"Castle, and I ran away to find you and then..."

"Wait," he interrupts, "you ran away?"

"Of _course_," she says impatiently. "I came to find you."

"Well, you found me," he answers hastily. "Now will you tell me how you found _Francis_."

"Only after you tell me how you _know_ him," she shoots back, and Eugene throws up his hands in frustration.

"Forget it, I'm going after him," he says, realising he's wasting precious time as the person he's been hunting escapes. "He can explain for himself. Wait here." He sets a hand on her shoulder and starts toward the way Francis fled, but Rapunzel grabs him by the sleeve, digs her heels down and anchors into the forest floor.

"Don't!" she pleads. "It's pitch black, you'll never find him, and... and.. what if it's dangerous?" Listening to her own words, she appears to think over the prospect for a moment. "Oh no!" she cries. "What if it's dangerous? FRANCIS!" she shrieks, running straight past Eugene. "Come back!" He grabs her by the wrist just as she did him.

"You're right," he says remorsefully, holding her back lest she actually run off. "Neither of us are gonna find him in this light."

"But-" she begins desperately.

"No, come on," he adds with a pleading tug on her arm, leading her back to the light and warmth of the campfire. "It's useless."

"I..." She hesitates for a moment, and then accepts his unfortunate reality. "Oh, Eugene," she heaves, and throws herself against him, hugging him tight and burying her face against his chest, feeling the warmth she's missed. He holds her close, but his tongue burns with questions he can't keep contained – not when she is exactly the very _last _place in the Kingdom that she should be.

"Seeing as we have the time," he says pointedly, "you might as well tell me what you're doing here." He pries her gently away – as much as he wants to forget the need for words and talking, she _shouldn't _be here, and especially not with Francis of all people.

"O-okay," she relents, and they sit; curling up next to his feet like a cat, she rests her head against his knees and tells him the story from when he left her – about the second Flynn Rider crime, finding Francis wounded in the forest, and about his agreeing to help her. Eugene listens patiently, never interrupting or questioning until she's finished – but when she looks up at him, his expression is dark and foreboding.

"Oh man..." he murmurs. "Where do I even start?"

"I don't know?" she says meekly. "At the beginning?" Eugene's face falls to his hands and he groans; raking his fingers back through his hair, Rapunzel is almost sick with dread – he hasn't looked so serious since he _died._

"I'm just gonna come out with it," he decides in the end. "Francis... he... he's the new Flynn Rider." For a moment Rapunzel doesn't speak, her mouth just hangs uselessly half-open; then her eyes widen, and the burnt, red firelight sucks the colour from them, turning them dull and lifeless.

"He's... _no_," she gasps. "He couldn't be."

"I'm almost certain he is," replies Eugene, and then goes on to tell her his story – right from the start; from the orphanage to the message on his bedroom wall – then finding out what became of his once-friend, and how he put all the pieces together.

"But why?" she asks disbelievingly. "Why would he do that?"

"I think he' angry with me – for giving up the Flynn Rider game," Eugene explains. "I think he's trying to take my place."

"But..." she mumbles, her hands folded tightly in her lap; it's clear she doesn't want to believe him.

"It fits," he points out. "You found him the night of the second crime, right? I heard from folks at the Snuggly Duckling 'Flynn Rider' was wounded escaping from his last crime." He frames the name with hand gestures and sarcasm, making clear his feelings on the impostor, even taking their past into account. Once he'd left the Kingdom, the Snuggly Duckling seemed like a good place to go for information, and once the thugs were convinced that he _wasn't_ the Flynn Rider everyone was looking for, they were happy to help. None of them were actually criminals or bandits any more, they just hung around the Duckling for the atmosphere.

"Well, maybe it was just a coincidence?" Rapunzel suggests hopefully, but he stares the idea down. "But... but why didn't he _tell_ me?" she bursts at last, caught somewhere between upset and confusion.

"He was probably scared," explains Eugene. "Scared you'd turn him in." Rapunzel tries to laugh at the comment, but it's a hollow sound.

"Here I was worrying he'd turn _me _in," she laments quietly. "I just..." Her hands come to her face, and she rubs her temples as if it will help her find the answers she seeks. "I just can't believe it."

"I can," he replies shortly.

"But it seems so... so..." she flusters, and then hangs as she tries to grasp for the right word. " So – _impossible."_

"Well," remarks Eugene with half a smile, as he thumbs through the top of her hair fondly. "Impossible things always seem to happen around you." As difficult as the current circumstances are, he's still glad to have her back.

"I lived a pretty boring life until _you _came along," she counters righteously.

"Oh no, don't you try pin this on _me_," he jokingly reproves, wagging a finger at her, but the humour is ill-sustained; Rapunzel cups her face in her hands, and Eugene sets a palm against her back consolingly. "Hey," he murmurs. "Take it easy, huh?"

"I just..." she half-starts, and breaks away, fisting her hands against her forehead. "It doesn't make any _sense_," she cries out at last. "He seemed like such a _nice_..." She doesn't notice, but Eugene's face begins to sour. "He was so sweet, he – he just wanted to _help_ me... if he's the new Flynn Rider, why would he..." she trails off helplessly, turning up to Eugene with bright pleading eyes, but he only scoffs.

"I'd think it was pretty obvious," he answers coarsely, and there's an antagonism in his voice Rapunzel has never heard him use with her before.

"Um... not to me?" she says timidly. He looks down to her, eyes burning, but it's nothing like the smoulder – it's anger she sees.

"Of course, who'd ever want to help a pretty girl stranded all alone in a forest?" he mutters sarcastically. As much as he's tried, Eugene can't blot out the image of Rapunzel and Francis together – the two of them travelling, bonding, becoming close, just like _they_ did. The more he thinks, the more it feels like there's something closing around his neck, imagining what the boy must have thought, must have _felt _for her – it chokes, sticks in his throat.

"What... do you mean?" she breathes fearfully.

"Oh _come on_!" he snaps – too frustrated to keep a firm grip on his temper. "He _likes_ you, that's why he helped-"

"No!" she interrupts shrilly. "No, Eugene, that's not... I don't know where you got an idea like that from but-" she chatters, but there's a denial in her voice that betrays her.

"Don't, Rapunzel," he interrupts bluntly, and now it's real anger in his voice, biting through teeth clamped together so hard his mouth barely moves. "Just _don't_." He knows what men think, being one himself, and loves her enough that he is individually and painfully aware of every single trait that would make another guy fall for her, just as hard as he has.

"But it's not true," she protests. "I never – I mean he never... you don't _know_ Fran-" she tries to argue, but the words are sickly and forced, and Eugene cuts her off.

"Know him?" he growls. "I don't _know _him? I grew up with him! I know him better than you ever could." He's truly lost his temper now; his words scare and _hurt, _so Rapunzel wraps her arms around herself and hugs her own fragile frame.

"I don't... I didn't..." she mumbles pathetically, unable to fight his anger, and pinches her eyes closed before tears have a chance to form. "I didn't _want_ to think about it," she confesses at last, rips the secret from her chest and lets her head fall down. She wasn't blind to Francis's attachment by accident, it was deliberate, she didn't know what to do, so just shoved her fingers in her ears and blocked it out. She was so sure everything would work out, but nothing has – if anything it's _worse_, and she's ashamed of herself – it's her fault Eugene is angry.

It's always been that way, just as it was with Gothel – maybe he's the bad guy for losing his temper, but she knows she's responsible really. So she huddles tighter and hides her face, because she doesn't want him to see her like this – lying, crying like a child – messing up, because maybe she can't do anything, maybe she _should _have stayed inside.

"I'm so sorry, Eugene," she sobs at last, though it makes no sense muffled through her arms. Eugene can't make out the words, but it's enough to get through to him, lure him out of the angry haze that muddles his head, collapsing his temper like a card house.

"What..." he says looking down. "Rapunzel? Oh _sweetheart." _His heart bleeds when he realises what he's done to her, and scrambling from his seat he falls to her level, feeling for her desperately, cursing himself. He cradles her face in his hands and twists her unwillingly to face him, pulling her apart like picking out a shellfish."No, please, _I'm_ sorry," he begs, but she resists, drawn back into herself, hurt and scared, so he forces the reluctant truth from his lips.

"I'm not mad... I didn't mean it. I'm just... I'm just jealous," he spits out the word like he can exorcise the feeling, but it doesn't work – though it is enough that she listens, and peers up at him through teary eyelashes.

"What? R-really?" she murmurs disbelievingly. "You're... jealous? Over me?" She didn't think Eugene _could_ be jealous, much less over her.

"You kidding?" he groans. "So much it hurts_, _Rapunzel_." _She'll move freely under his touch now, and he lifts her face and traces his thumbs along her cheekbones tenderly, treasuring her for a moment.

"But... _why?"_ she questions.

"_Why?_ You can't ask why," he tells her in exhaustion, sliding his hands down to rest on her shoulders as he releases a sigh.

"But I love you, Eugene," she says simply, and it makes his heart lurch like she's pulling on it with a bell-rope. "You don't need to be jealous."

"That isn't how it works," he bites grimly – if he could choose not to feel this way they wouldn't be having this problem. He wants to explain it all to her, but the words won't come to him, and he just squeezes and stares while she waits for an explanation that won't form.

"I just... I... I can't help it. Seeing you with him... it makes me think – _what if?_" he finally shoves something half coherent off his tongue, but it's largely for nothing because Rapunzel looks just as confused.

"What if_?" _she parrots. "I don't understand."

"Errrgh," he moans, letting go of her to bury his face in his hands; it seems to be so _simple_ for Rapunzel – she is sure of their love because she's never known another, she believes in destiny, fate, true love. He doesn't have those advantages.

"What is it?" she pleads. "Whatever you're thinking, can't I help?" He tries to explain, because he wants any help he can get, anything to stop feeling the way he does.

"It's just... what if it had been someone else?" he blurts out at last. "Instead of me. What if you'd met someone else? Someone _better _for you?" He's trying to explain it as best he can, but she clearly doesn't follow.

"You... think I should be with someone else?" she asks in a tiny, heartbroken voice.

"No," he rushes – that's the very last thing he wants. "It's not like that – I just wonder.. if instead of me, what if you'd met someone else? Like Francis – and... what if I'm no good – if he'd be-"

"But you _are _good, Eugene," she interrupts surely. "I don't want anyone else."

"I know, but it's _jealousy_ – it's not meant to be rational," he groans. "With Francis, he's younger, he's... you said he was... it's _similar_, isn't it?" he bursts at last, and that's the image he can't erase, the fear he can't bury.

"Similar?" she chirps. "To what?"

"To how _we_ met," he murmurs; it is clearly not the right thing to say, because she looks horrified.

"You think it's like how we-" she trails off. "You think that I'd fall in love with someone else? Just because it's the same way we did?"

"I-" he starts in a panic, reaching for her like she might run away from him, like he could lose her that easily – but she grabs him firmly, holds one hand on each side of his face, and stares straight into his eyes, like she's looking right into his heart.

"Eugene," she says with a soft, quiet sureity. "I fell in love with you because of _you_, not because of how we met."

He lets out a tortured sigh, and as she's still curled up – knees tucked high against her chest – he lets his forehead fall and rests on them. She raises a hand and combs fingers through his hair, from crown down to neck, soothing and regular, like she's comforting an animal or child. She never thought _Eugene – _the man with confidence for two personalities, then some to spare – could feel like this, like he's not good enough – that he could be insecure and doubt something so sure as her love.

She thought she was the only person who thought those kind of things, that she'd been _made _to feel like that by Gothel. She thinks if even Eugene can have insecurities, maybe the two of them aren't as different as they think. Maybe she and everyone aren't as different.

"I'm such a mess..." he mumbles against her pitiably, shamed by his own sad state; he's meant to be her hero.

"Eugene..." she sighs, stroking her hand through his hair one more time, then lifting his head up. He gives her a questioning glance, but then she leans forwards and kisses him, and he'd go cross-eyed trying to look at her from there. She loves him, but sometimes he does talk a little too much.

His eyes close, hands finding her shoulders and squeezing tight – he can barely resist her at the best of times, but he is feeling insecure and jealous; restraint simply isn't something that occurs to him. So Eugene's hands slip lower down her back until they sit around her waist, and he looses a breath and pulls her across him, until she's in his lap and the full length of her body can press against his. While she may have engaged him first, he is the one who takes control.

Rapunzel has never known Eugene like this before, so tense and aggressive – he has no quips or lines, he only kisses her hard and desperate. Roaming from her mouth, he holds her face firmly in his hand and tips back her head, kissing from her jaw along to the hollow below her ear. There's no precision or care for her in his actions, he wants only to taste her, feel her; his stubble scratches, his teeth scrape across skin, but he takes no notice, seems to _want_ marks of where he's been.

Rapunzel certainly doesn't object, but she doesn't quite know what to do with herself either. His mouth comes to her neck and he kisses hard, drawing up blushes against her pale skin; it makes her dizzy, her breath heavy as she clutches his hair in her fingers – it's about all she can do to hang on. Then, without warning, he pulls away and twists her back to face him, diving into another disarmingly aggressive kiss.

She could try to reciprocate, but it'd makes no difference, like she's throwing a handful of gravel against a rock slide. Her mouth slips from his and she lets out a squeak when he his hand – which has travelled down her leg to the hem of her dress – suddenly slips back upwards beneath the material of her skirt, his cold winter-bitten fingers making her jump.

He slowly strokes along smooth skin, fingers tickling the back of her knee when his hand comes to rest there. Rapunzel is aware now as she's never been that Eugene is a _man_ – that he's been holding back, because there's an intimidating passion behind his cool restraint and suavity; something so strong she can't ever hope to fight, that even he has trouble containing.

Suddenly he pulls back – standing so fast he nearly drops her, pushing her away like another second's contact could burn; he wrings his hands guiltily, neurotic, like he's trying to wash them of his own actions.

"I'm sorry," he rushes. "I got-" he starts but never finishes, because Rapunzel leaps up and jumps at him, throwing her arms around his neck to hang at his level, lunging for another kiss. But he catches her before she achieves her purpose, setting a finger over her lips.

"No," he tells her, his breath shallow and weak, but his tone firm. "Don't. Let me stop while I still can."

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><p>Ooh urr, this is the slightly less PC-end of Disney, but then this is a story for a significantly older demographic than Disney's target audience. I hope O_o Also this story isn't going to turn into some AND NOW THEY HAVE SEX EVERY CHAPTER FOR THE NEXT 30'000 WORDS, Rapunzel and Eugene were just working out some, ahem. Tension.<p>

I could really go on about how much I've thought about the interaction in this chapter, but instead I will suggest you review and I'll bore you with all of that nonsense in private messages. Peace out!


	10. The Chase

Hey guys, seems like the story's really taking off now – chapter 10! Hopefully this chapter will deal with some of the issues left open at the end of the last.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~10~

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><p>It's a difficult night Eugene and Rapunzel spend together, sleeping close enough to touch but unable to breach the gap. While they both want nothing more than to fit together and sleep in each other's arms, Eugene keeps his back to her and will <em>not<em> let it happen, his and her own suffering aside.

It's because he has the fortune – or misfortune – of knowing his limits, and he knows he can't sleep next to her without going too far, not tonight, not after what happened, with the hot sick streak of possessiveness hissing in his ear. He only just stopped himself once, and while they _could_ get away with it – there's hardly anyone watching, any way the palace could find out – he knows Rapunzel isn't ready, and deserves a lot better than him taking out his jealousy and frustration on her in a place like this. So they sleep cold and lonely, barely a meter apart.

The nights of sleeping rough are starting to take their toll on Eugene because he wakes groggy and rough around the edges; he slumps back against a log and rubs his jaw, his stubble threatening to become a full beard, his body eliciting clicks and aches in protest to the abuse it's suffering.

Scratching his chin, he wonders if it hurt Rapunzel when he... looking over to where she sleeps curled up under her cloak, her face is calm and unblemished, no signs of harm, but on her neck sit faint marks, dark like bruises. They will fade, but it wouldn't bode well if she were to be seen at home like that – he's not even meant to kiss her, prim and proper suitor that he is, let alone give her hickeys.

He's worried that he lost control, even if it was only for a moment, because even now – after everything that happened – he still feels a lurch in his chest when he thinks about her and Francis, and knows he could do the same again if he were pushed. While he talks a big talk about wanting Rapunzel to be free, sometimes he fears he'll be left behind – a lumbering man on the ground, watching a bird fly away; that fear makes him want to grab on and never let go, exactly the way Gothel tried to.

Insecurities are something he has to live with now – when he was Flynn he didn't need to have any, he was such a perfect caricature he never needed to doubt himself, never needed to _care _enough to feel anything. But while Eugene Fitzherbert has more problems, he also has Rapunzel, and that makes everything else worthwhile. That said, he's still known the Stabbington Brothers longer than he's known her, and while he certainly doesn't want to marry the grusome twosome, he's tortuously aware that he and Rapunzel _do_ need to take things slow – slower than they'd like, at least.

He's not loud, sitting in silence, musing over his relationship in unhelpful circles, but something wakes Rapunzel, because she picks her head up and looks around suddenly, like a startled deer. The first thing she does is look for him, he notices, her face calming when she spots him lolling back in his makeshift seat. He offers her a weary smile and limply lifts a hand; she smiles back, then quickly shuffles over to him. He raises an arm and she tucks herself under it wordlessly, wrapping her own around his stomach, face resting on his chest, rising with his breath.

It's only just getting light – from the trees birds sing a chorus of mixed up tunes – and they sit awhile and enjoying the silence, enjoying being close and at peace. Her forehead presses against his collarbone, his hand on her hip, and talking doesn't seem necessary, so they just rest and watch shadows growing shorter over the trees.

At least until Max wakes up, as he takes one look at the two of them and whinnies up a storm – he seems to be compensating for last night, when he snored blissfully ignorant through their altercation.

"Oh come on!" Eugene protests when the horse tries to headbutt Rapunzel away from him. "It's not like I was even doing anything!" Max neighs in his face, and he pales at the animal's morning breath, shuddering unpleasantly.

"Well thanks, Max. I think you just horked away the last bit of romance there," he comments sarcastically – which only makes the horse hee-haw cheerfully. Eugene starts to push up his sleeves up, as if readying for a fight.

"Shall we go soon?" Rapunzel interjects before they can degrade to brawling. "If we set off early, we can catch Francis quickly, right?"

"What? Oh, well, about that," Eugene says awkwardly. "See... I was gonna go after him by myself. Cause' you should probably go home. Your folks gotta be worried about you." Rapunzel looks at him coolly, perhaps a little disappointed.

"No," she answers concisely, and then carries on packing her things.

"Hey... I'm serious," he insists, going after her and catching her as she stuffs things into her satchel. "Francis is _my_ problem – so I'll fix it. Max, you'll take her back, right?"

He looks up at the horse, who nods, but then there's a sudden thump, and he glances back to see she's thrown down her bag; for a moment it's like even the birds have stopped singing, and then she suddenly whirls around to face him.

"I would've thought _you _of all people would understand, Eugene!" she shoots, and there's a sharp edge to her tone. "I'm not going back. These are my problems as well – I want my own answers. Can't you see?" she exclaims. "I'm trying to do something _myself!_ And – and, even if you're standing in my way... I don't care. I'm _not _going back; not for my parents, not even for you."

Rapunzel has realised that this is about more than clearing Eugene's name, that it's about righting some horrible wrongs that have been made, and she wants to be a part of it. She's listened to Eugene long enough that she knows she has to make her own decisions – even if they turn out to be wrong, even if means standing up to him; so she _won't_ back down, even if it means a fight.

"... Okay," Eugene replies after a short pause. "Get your stuff, then."

"Wuh... what?" she gasps. "That's it?" She honestly hadn't expected him to fold so easily, and treats the result with suspicion.

"Hey," he says, an almost proud lilt to his voice. "If you want it this much, who am I to stand in the way? It's your life." He slings his pack over his shoulder; he'll probably be happier keeping her in his sights for now, and she can't really go home in her current state either – not without breeding a whole lot of trouble. This way, at least he can say he _did_ honestly tell her to go home – he just didn't mean it all that much. He's a little surprised when she runs forwards and throws her arms around his neck, her feet swinging off the ground as she hugs him fiercely, but he certainly isn't complaining.

"Oh thank you," she gushes. "You understand!" She starts to say something more, but also kisses him at the same time, so it makes very little sense, and he's not the sort of man to turn down a lady's advances. He holds her tenderly for a moment – calm and happy – but Max soon starts shrieking at them, so they break apart and get ready to leave.

"Hey boy," Rapunzel coos secretively, sweet-talking the proud animal as Eugene loads the saddle up with their packs. "Do you think you can track Francis, huh?" Max quirks his eyebrows and his nostrils billow – he shakes himself free and then puts his face to the ground, blowing up puffs of leaves and shovelling through the undergrowth noisily.

"What's he doing?" Eugene asks sceptically when Max snoops straight past his feet. The horse stops, picks his head up, and then sneezes on Eugene, who stiffly wipes his face. "Thanks for that, bud." Max just chortles.

"You know, I'm really not sure if that horse likes me, or likes making my life miserable," Eugene remarks. "... Probably both," he concludes, but then Max appears to pick up on the trail, because he stampedes off into the forest with a determined air; Rapunzel and a more sullen Eugene follow on behind, the latter muttering about being led to water by a horse, but refusing to drink.

"So," prompts Rapunzel after an inconspicuously short silence, pacing after Max as he ploughs onwards, "tell me about Francis."

"Uh... well," Eugene murmurs uncertainly. "There's nowhere to start with him... I mean, what do you want to know?"

"I want to understand, I guess," she answers quietly, a little unsure of herself. "I can't match up the boy I met with this person you're telling me about – someone who robs and hurts people."

"Not surprising, I'm sure he only wanted to show you his good side," Eugene remarks flippantly.

"I... suppose... so..." she replies, but clearly doesn't sound like she understands.

"Honey, _I _only want to show you my good side," he points out, and she gives him the same puzzled look; Eugene groans and wonders if maybe her mother ought to have included all these things in a 'talk' of some kind, rather than leaving them for him to fumble through.

"Well, when you care about someone – or want them to care about you," he explains. "You only want them to see you at your best." Rapunzel's mouth makes an 'oh' shape, and she nods vaguely, but says nothing, taking a sudden interest in the scenery around them.

"I love you for everything, Eugene," she mumbles suddenly, so quiet and unassuming he nearly misses it, "even your bad sides." He doesn't reply but smiles, savouring the moment. With a quick check to ensure Max is still snorting dirt ahead of them, he reaches out an arm and slings it around her shoulders, pulling her close for just long enough to press his mouth against her temple. When he releases her, Rapunzel feels for his nearest arm and closes Eugene's hand in hers, fingers meshing as they walk in companionable silence. Soon Eugene asks a very valid question.

"Does this horse actually know where he's going?"

Max, who is still nose-to-the-ground ahead of them, stops dead in his hooves and turns around, giving Eugene such a furious eyeballing that he quickly relents.

"Oh okay, I'm sorry, _Detective_," he apologises sarcastically. "Lead on, by all means." They carry on again, and Eugene questions his wisdom in placing the task of finding Francis in a temperamental horse with an attitude problem.

"Um, Eugene," Rapunzel asks a little later. "When we find Francis... what are we going to do?"

"We?" he echoes. "I didn't think... I was just gonna..." he trails off, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully. "Well, I was pretty much planning on punching his lights out. You know, for all the trouble he's caused me. Then I figured the rest would work itself out."

"You can't do that!" she gasps, shocked that he would even suggest such a thing. "How's that going to make him feel any better?"

"Him? I was thinking it'd make _me_ feel a lot better," he replies coolly, but seeing her horrified expression, concedes to a slightly more serious discussion. "Obviously, he's got to stop," he states. "I was planning on setting him straight, you know? Talking some sense into him."

"But... what about the crimes?" she asks uncertainly. "Someone has to come forward, and the guards... they, well, they aren't really on your side."

"What a surprise," he slights. "I _didn't _do it though, so I'll have to get proven innocent one way or another. There's no need for anyone else to get involved, so long as the crimes stop."

"But... but," she protests. "What if you don't get cleared? What if they have to punish _someone, _and... and you can't get out of it – and if Francis really _did _commit those crimes, he should face up to them."

"What, like I faced up to mine?" Eugene reproves coolly.

"That's different," she replies. "You admitted guilt, said sorry, atoned for what you did." A key point in Eugene's pardoning had been that if it weren't for his crimes – which led up to the theft of the princess's tiara – then he wouldn't have found Rapunzel, let alone be able to bring her home. It proved persuasive enough to grant him a new life, a second chance.

"Somehow I doubt '_I'm sorry'_ will get Francis off the hook," he points out morosely. "He doesn't have a long-lost princess to return... unless you have a sister," he jokes with a dry look. "Look, it's only a couple of robberies, if he stops now, he can still get away with it."

"Is that right?" she challenges, a little disappointed in his evasion of justice. "He really hurt some people, shouldn't he-"

"_Right?_ You want to talk about right?" Eugene shoots, and his hand pulls out of Rapunzel's. "If _right_ is going to jail for something _I _did to him, then I preferred being on the wrong side of the law." He speaks dramatically, but she can sense he's deadly serious and it worries her, because he's never indicated he'd rather his old life back before; it sends a bolt of panic that he might change his mind racing through her.

"What do you mean, _you_ did to him?" she questions urgently, still following blindly behind Max, who pays no attention to their argument and keeps his nose to the ground.

"It's all my fault," he confesses. "I made it all up – Flynn Rider, the dashing thief, the _hero._ I sold it to him, practically shoved it down his throat. We were in it together, and then... I left him." For a person who knows plenty about abandonment, Eugene's ashamed that he'd been so quick to do the same to someone. "When I came to my senses, he didn't come to his. I wanna _save_ him, not put him in prison, Rapunzel," he explains climatically. "I got my chance to turn it around – Francis deserves his."

Rapunzel is quiet for a while as she considers her words; she always thought of Eugene as the ultimate free spirit, unbound by anything, but when she hears the huge weight of responsibility in his voice, she realises how much this means to him, and doesn't want to cause upset by saying the wrong thing.

"I want the same things as you," she says delicately. "I _do_. I just... don't know if running is the best way."

"What would you do?" he puts to her; not angry, but challenging. "You said yourself, you're coming after him of your own will – so what's _your_ plan?"

"Well... I want to talk to him," she replies firmly, not shying away from making her own argument. "Find out why he did it – _if_ he did it. If something's made him angry enough to hurt people, I want to... well, fix it – if I can. There _has_ to be something I can do for him," she insists. "I'm going to find out what it is, and help any way I can... he just needs to let me," she finishes a little unsurely, and Eugene gives her a long, hard look. "What?" she says, and then suddenly he stops, puts one hand to her cheek, another to her shoulder, and drags her into a powerful kiss; reminding himself that he can, that she's _his_, and then feeling a stab of guilt at the direction of his own thoughts.

This time – probably the first time, Rapunzel doesn't go along with it, she pulls away.

"Where'd _that_ come from?" she exclaims, as his thumb traces along the line of her jaw – it's somewhat distracting, and she tries hard to stay focused. However, he sobers up quickly – sighs and falls away; like a kettle that's boiled over, letting off a great shriek of steam in a single heated moment, only to subdue again.

"Sorry. I – I wish I knew," he mutters solemnly, rubs his face with the ball of his palm. "Things are weird right now. There's a lot of stuff I never expected to get mixed up – Francis, you, _Flynn_. I just... need to set everything straight," he says at last, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep, calming breath. "Things are gonna start making sense soon, I promise."

Rapunzel sighs and stretches out for him, setting her hands flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm.

"Things don't need to make sense," she tells him sincerely. "You just need to be happy, Eugene. That's all I care about." He stares at her, his heart twisting like Rapunzel is wringing it out with both hands. They both dart a look at Max, who still forages ahead of them in blissful innocence, and then leap forwards to tangle in a quick, intense kiss.

"You're too good for me," he murmurs against her lips, leaning his forehead against hers longingly. "I lo-" he starts, but then a shrill neigh comes ripping through the trees and interrupts his attempted confession. There are further shrieks from Max, mixed among the shouts and yelps of a human voice, and recognition hits Eugene and Rapunzel at the same time.

"Francis!" they chorus, and start to sprint through the decaying undergrowth, hurtling towards the source of the noise.

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><p>Leave a review please! Unless you have a problem with me chattering to you about Rapunzel and Eugene and why I hate codependency being mistaken for romance, or the new Happily Forever After short that's been announced. In which case I just hope you enjoyed the chapter and stay tuned for the next installation =D<p> 


	11. The Fight

Last chap seemed quieter in reviewer response, but I think ridonkulously long essay-type messages with a few reviewers outshines a bunch of 'I like it update soon' reviews ANY day of the week. Best highlight from reviewer-convos is quite definitely Eugene donking himself in the head with a frying pan in response to Rapunzel telling him she's pregnant.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~11~

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><p>When Eugene claps eyes on Francis for the second time in nearly ten years, he has the leg of his trousers clamped between the teeth of one very persistent horse; though the boy kicks trying to get loose, he hasn't yet reached the desperation required to actually crawl out of his clothing in escape.<p>

"Get off! Get OFF!" he screams at the horse, who continues to chomp down on his prisoner with an unwavering determination.

"Francis!" Eugene barks as he approaches – he runs a little faster than Rapunzel, so arrives before her.

"Eugene? No – get _away_, stupid animal!" yells Francis, and finally lands a fierce kick in Max's face. The horse yelps and flinches, releasing his grip and allowing the boy to try scramble to his feet.

"Oh no you don't!" Eugene bellows as he launches at the boy, landing on top of him and rolling all the way over as he forces him to the ground. Francis struggles like a wild animal, kicking and screaming, lashing out for anything he can reach. Though he tries, Eugene can't calm or even restrain him – so eventually he lifts a hand and smacks Francis hard across the face, hoping to knock some sense into him, by which point Rapunzel has arrived on the scene.

"NO!" she screams, racing towards the fray. "Don't hurt him, Eugene!"

"Stay out of this," he says sharply, and looks up at Rapunzel for a moment, reaching out with an arm to hold her away from Francis. Unfortunately his distraction gives the boy an opening to retaliate, and he punches Eugene in the face.

"Francis!" Rapunzel shrieks anew. "Don't hurt Eugene either!" Needless to say, both of them ignore her, and Eugene fights back, landing his own fist into his opponent's belly. Francis coils up with a wheeze, and then goes very still.

"Francis… Francis?" Eugene probes, relaxing for a second as worry bites into him – he never meant to seriously hurt him. However, as soon as his guard is down, Francis uncoils like a mousetrap and flips Eugene onto his back, reaching out to close hands around Eugene's throat.

"Let me go!" he shouts, enough pressure on Eugene's neck to be felt, but not enough to hurt – yet. "Let me go and don't chase me any more!" The threat doesn't need to be stated, but Eugene doesn't believe for a second Francis has it in him, so shows no fear as he fixes on the boy.

"Never," he forces through the grip on his throat, and his eyes flicker to Rapunzel for a moment, who stands shocked behind them – still like a statue, her eyes glassy and dazed. Eugene finds the strength and space to punch Francis again, trying to throw him off, but it isn't enough and the boy scowls, fury pouring out of him as his hands tighten.

"I'm warning you!" he snarls, but Eugene just smirks at him, a quick shot of _original _Flynn Rider.

"You don't have it in you," he says wheezily, but then Francis's fingers suddenly seize tight, closing around Eugene's throat; he tries to reach for the hands that choke him, to pull them away, but his head starts to spin, throat screaming with pain as his fingers fumble uselessly. He realises that calling someone's bluff when they were about to throttle him may not have been the wisest call.

Eugene's ears have just started to buzz, black closing in on the corners of his vision, when Francis suddenly goes slack, eyes rolling back in his head, and he slumps over Eugene like a run down clockwork. Eugene pulls the hands from hiass neck and gasps painfully for breath, then as his vision clears, he makes out Rapunzel, standing over the two of them with a familiar shape brandished in her shaking hand.

"Frying pans..." he croaks, easing himself upright and sucking in air like he's never tasted it before.

"N-... n-never leave home without it..." she stammers, the words of a joke assembled, but no humour to carry the line. Then in a split-second she's thrown down the kitchenware and tumbles to her knees beside him.

"Are you okay? Eugene, oh I'm sorry I should have – or maybe I shouldn't have, but he was- and I panicked, and I thought... then I couldn't – but I – I thought he was... I thought he'd _kill_ you!" Her voice cracks, breaking into a sob as she wraps her arms around him. "I couldn't lose you, not again," she cries desperately, and Eugene shoves Francis aside, looping an arm around her in awkward embrace.

"Easy, easy," he murmurs hoarsely, rubbing her back as she squeezes him tightly, still shaking with fright. "No harm done, okay?" Even with his reassurance, she still feels the need to throw herself into a kiss that almost bruises – which Eugene allows for a guilty moment, before setting her back and looking over at Francis. "Now," he coughs. "What do we do with him?" Rapunzel turns too, pouting as she thinks, and then a soft smile creeps across her face.

"You leave that to me," she says with an unnerving air of foreboding for a girl of her nature. "I've got an idea..."

When Francis awakes, groggy and suffering a pounding headache, he tries to cradle his thumping skull, but his hands won't move properly. He looks down at himself, and sees a strange kind of rope wrapped around both wrists, binding them together and then leading away into the shadows. He follows it up, trying to work out what seems so weird when it suddenly hits him.

"Is this _hair_?" he exclaims as he holds the rope up close, and then Eugene and Rapunzel appear, stepping into view, tightly gripping the other end of the braid, keeping him leashed.

"Okay, Francis," Rapunzel gets the first word in. "No more fighting. Let's just talk."

"I've got nothing to say to either of you!" he hisses, and fixes her with an incinerating glare. "Especially _Pascal."_ Eugene looks around bemusedly, then realises who he's talking to – which unfortunately makes him even more confused. "Or is it Rapunzel – right? Because you're the princess – the _lost_ princess?"

"Well... um," she murmurs awkwardly. "I though you woulda... but you didn't recognise me, and I thought – so I... Yeah," she mumbles at last. "I'm the princess." She feels horribly traitorous for lying, but Eugene comes to her defence.

"You're hardly one to talk, Francis," he accuses. "Or can we call you _Flynn?"_

"So what!" he snaps furiously. "You quit, didn't you? And _she's _the reason," he spits with a hatred so sharp it sends chills down Rapunzel's neck. Francis is beyond angry, practically murderous – she actually thought he wanted to kill Eugene, and could have really hurt him if she hadn't intervened. Even when he's tied up she fears him a little – it's never been appearances that scare her, because she knows that the real thing to fear is what someone is capable of.

"I'm the reason? For what?" she echoes.

"For _everything_!" Francis snarls, and again she's struck by how uncontrollable he seems, like a wild animal. "Everything that's happened, the reason I had to– it's all your fault!"

"It is?" she meekly questions, and it's only the thought of Eugene by her side that keeps her feeling safe. "I don't understand, Francis... how could I-"

"You ruined _everything!" _he interrupts, and she flinches instinctively. Rapunzel never imagined _she _could do this to someone she never met, without even realising. Eugene almost died for her once, and now wonders how many more people she could hurt without realising – by fumbling through the world in her clumsy, inadequate way.

"No, Francis," Eugene cuts in, stopping both ranting and her runaway worries. His voice is absolute, his tone deep and serious. "Don't blame Rapunzel. It's me you should blame."

"But if it wasn't for _her_, Flynn Rider would still-" Francis argues.

"No he wouldn't," Eugene interrupts. "Flynn Rider's gone. He was never real."

"Don't say that! You were a _hero_!" Francis protests desperately. "Now what are you? Just a rich girl's lapdog, you sold us all out just to get your hands on-"

"That's not true!" Rapunzel cries, and before she can go on, she feels Eugene's hand on her shoulder, stopping her as she tries to rush forwards and explain herself.

"Shut up, Francis," he warns ominously. "You've no idea what she's been through," he'd try to explain, but the boy has no ears to listen. Eugene can see he's shut them out, rejected everything he doesn't want to accept – just like they would when they were young; that was the reason their games were always the best, so far detached from reality.

"If _you _won't be Flynn, someone has to," Francis murmurs resentfully.

"Flynn wasn't... _I _wasn't a hero," he replies, "I was just a thief, Francis. A selfish, shallow thief." He tightens his grip on the rope that binds their captive, and steps a little closer; he drops down to his level and tries to look the boy directly in the eyes, desperate to get through to him. "Don't make the same mistakes I did," Eugene pleads with him. "You won't be so lucky – you're just going to get hurt."

It's not meant to be an insult – he just knows Francis isn't made of the right stuff for thieving; on his second heist he was wounded and didn't even get away with the loot. Eugene fears the next thing he'll injure is his neck, breaking it in a hangman's noose.

"Well that's just it," he glowers resentfully. "That's _it – _I can't ever be as good as you, can I, Eugene? You always get _everything_. You get to be the hero while I get nothing_ – _and now you just toss away our dream , because you're _better _than that – so now you can preach to me about how you've moved on. Well maybe I _haven't_, maybe I still want to be selfish because I've never had _anything _I want!"

"Francis," starts Eugene, trying to cool his notoriously explosive temper – they used to joke it was because of his red hair, but he can sense now isn't the time for such remarks.

"Don't you '_Francis_' me!" he snarls, and it's more than clear he isn't finished. "You got everything, Eugene, you always have. Now you even get a princess, get to take the first girl I thought I-" he cuts himself off, choking on jealousy and embarrassment.

Rapunzel watches, horrified, and wants to cry – but _for_ him, because she's never seen someone so hurt and angry; she feels responsible, even though there's no way she could have known or done anything different. Though Eugene still tries to argue with the boy, she's realised there _are _no arguments to make – no matter what either of them do or say, Francis is hurt, and he won't stop being hurt if they make the right excuses.

"I'm sorry," she butts in suddenly, and the way Francis catches her eyes suggests he might be listening. "I'm _so_ sorry, Francis. Please forgive me," she pleads, dropping down to her knees and staring at him, heart beating on her sleeve.

"No, Rapunzel, you don't have anything to-" Eugene interjects.

"It doesn't matter," she says firmly. "I've hurt Francis, and I'm sorry, I'm really, _really_ sorry." He looks at her now with that same expression as before, a look of adoration that makes Eugene bristle beside her. "_But_," she begins, and the tension between them springs like a string being plucked, "is this... really the way to fix things?"

"Whu... whaddya mean?" he growls mistrustfully.

"Well, pretending to be Flynn Rider, hurting people, stealing..."

"-Graffiti on my wall," Eugene adds sardonically.

"Graffiti on Eugene's wall," she mimics without thinking. "I mean, is it going to make it all better?" She looks around them at the harsh, wintering landscape. "Was this really what you imagined when you decided to be Flynn Rider?"

"Well... I don't... I... I," Francis babbles, and it's clear he hasn't got an answer, that this isn't what he envisioned. Then, in a split-second, his mood snaps back like stretched elastic. "I don't have to listen to you two!"

Then he pulls fiercely against the rope, looser in their hands now he's got them off-guard; then, in a flash he grabs for his boot and manages to pull out a small jackknife, something neither of them thought to look for. He thrusts it down through the braid that binds him and yanks on it – the rope splits easily, and Rapunzel lets out a scream like he's stabbed her.

In seconds all of them are moving; Francis is away, sprinting through the forest with Eugene hot on his tail, while Rapunzel scrambles to the place her hair has been cut, still on her knees, oblivious to the chase that happens around her. Even Max sets off after them, but the two men dash through a pair of small-spaced trees, and when Max attempts to bound through after them he gets stuck.

Eugene struggles to keep up with Francis; the boy got a head start on him, and moves like a rabbit across the peaty forest floor. Eventually Eugene realises the farther he runs the further he is from Rapunzel, and worries make his feet drag, until the distance between them increases to hopelessness. He gives up and staggers to a stop, hanging from a low tree branch, panting heavily as he kicks himself for not thinking this through well enough. Even if he _could _catch Francis up, it'd be impossible to handle him alone – not in the current state, not taking him all the way back to the Kingdom. Francis notices him stop, realising he's won, and whoops from a safe distance.

"Can't keep up, Eugene?" he yells through cupped hands. "You must be getting old!" Eugene winces, hating to be reminded of his age – or more specifically, his age in relation to them. "You're not worthy of Flynn Rider any more!"

"And you are?" he bellows back, but as much as he wants to go after Francis, he knows he can't just run off and leave Rapunzel in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a neurotic horse for company.

"We'll see about _that!_" Francis slings, stating it like a challenge. "You just stay out of my way – I'll show you!"

"You know I can't let you do that," he retorts, and the redheaded boy holds out his hands in invitation.

"Then come on," he baits, sticking out his tongue, laughing like it's still just a game – even though it's not, even though if he gets caught the guards are _real, _it's not just a scolding from Aunt Aya he risks. "Or are you just going to go running back to your _princess, _huh?"

Eugene bites his lip, wishing he could go racing after Francis and grind his face into the muddy forest floor for even daring to talk about Rapunzel the way he has, but he knows it won't do any good, and can see they've reached an impasse. As a highly successful thief, he's always maintained that an important ability is – _was_ – knowing when to walk away from a job. Like many other lessons of crime, it actually has useful implications in the legitimate world – not that he tells people that's where he learned these kind of things from.

"Go, then!" he barks, and the boy goes haring off into the woods again, but Eugene calls after him, cool and confident in his tone – a rare dose of Flynn Rider, because maybe that's the only way he can make Francis take him seriously. "You win this round, kid – but I'm coming for you next time!"

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><p>So I just read the story 'Freudian' by I forgot who but OH MY GOD what a Tangled AU. Makes me go all gaga over Eugene and Rapunzel again. Whaaaat a story. I'm just fangirling here. Leave a review or something.<p> 


	12. The Plan

Well this update has been quite a while, and I can't say I entirely know why. It has a fair bit of progression in it, but it just seemed to take up a lot of time. I hope everyone's still reading =D

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted <em>

~12~

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><p>When Eugene runs back to Rapunzel, the first thing he realises is that she's crying, and it hits him like a kick in the stomach, hurting far worse than anything Francis tried to do. In moments he's by her side, cradling her like a child almost on instinct. She leans into him, distraught, and he lifts her face to his, brushing wet cheeks with his thumbs.<p>

"Hey, hey," he rushes, trying to sound calm and cover his desperation, but not doing a particularly convincing job. "What's wrong?" he asks, but looks down a moment later and sees the severed end of her hair, gripped so hard her knuckles have gone bone-white. "Oh, shh – come on, sweetheart," he hushes, throwing out any comforting nonsense he can think of, pulling her firmer against him and rubbing her back, letting her sob against his neck.

"He... he..." she hiccups. "He just..."

"Easy, honey," he coos, holding her still, trying to calm the way she trembles. "Just breathe. He didn't hurt you." It sounds obvious, but he can understand how it might have felt like that to her; she spent so much of her life convinced her hair was everything – thinking she had to protect it, fearing it ever being cut and taken from her. "It's just hair," he murmurs, "he only cut a bit-"

"A _bit_?" she cuts him off, shocked and hurt. "It's my hair, Eugene! It's not about how much he cut off, it's that he _cut _it!" she verges on a shriek, and he tries helplessly to soothe her.

"I know... I know," he murmurs like an unconvincing echo. "But, thinking about it – didn't I cut off a lot more?" He ruffles her real hair with his hand, threading fingers through his own handiwork. "You're more than just hair," he says softly, and finally feels her relaxing against him.

"You're... you're right," she mumbles weakly, her breath deep and strained – she's exhausted herself.

"Exactly," he manages to say without a trace of arrogance. "We'll just tie it off again, okay? Then remember to check the next person for knives." He feels her nod against him, sniffing – a little embarrassed by her outburst. Another few moments and she's all but recovered, and gets up unsteadily; she goes to her bag for a binding to wrap around the new loose end, to stop it unravelling until they can fix it properly.

"Wait! What about Francis?" Rapunzel suddenly yelps, remembering like it actually shocks her. "What happened to him?"

"He got away," Eugene answers grimly. "I couldn't catch him." He gives a defeated shrug. "I didn't want to lose you guys, either. What could I do if I _did _catch him, half-way out to nowhere? I couldn't take him anywhere by myself. Not easily."

"Oh... I'm sorry," she says gently.

"You don't need to be," he replies, not liking when she apologises for things she shouldn't – because she's been trained to take the blame. "I know where he's heading, I think." Reminded of his task, he starts hurriedly packing, whistling sharply for Max, who appears to have vanished.

"You do? Where?" asks Rapunzel. "Are we going? Where's... hey, Max!" she cries, and then a piercing neigh cuts through the trees, and the horse bursts dramatically through a thicket.

"Oh, _now _you show up," Eugene mutters sarcastically, and Max swishes his tail aloofly, ignoring him and trotting over to Rapunzel with a doting whinny. "We're going back," he tells her as he throws his satchel over Max's saddle. "I think Francis is going to try to... to _Flynn Rider_ again." It's the only way he can describe it.

"Try what?" she starts, but then understands. "Oh no!" she gasps. "He can't! What if he-"

"I know," he cuts her off hastily. "That's why we have to get back before him." He starts walking, giving Max a slap on the flank to get him going, but the horse doesn't appreciate so much he tries to buck Eugene in the stomach.

"I'm ready! I'm ready!" Rapunzel chatters, racing around madly and then hounding after Eugene, Max following on her trail. "Where do you think he'll strike next?" she questions as she draws up alongside him, and Max overtakes the two of them, powering along as their self-appointed guide.

"I don't know," he answers honestly, "but I've got a couple of ideas, and some tricks up my sleeve. I'll manage. Once you're back in the castle, I'll start-"

"Whoa, whoaah," she jumps in. "_Back in the castle?_ When was that part of the plan? I'm not going home."

"What did you think you were doing?" he retorts. "We're going back to the Kingdom. You might be able to get past Francis without being recognised, but the rest of the Kingdom's not so stupid. They're gonna be looking high and low – not to mention blaming it on me – and I mean, if you get caught – if _I _get caught… it's going to look bad." He pauses. "_Really _bad. I just... think you should go home – it's for the best," he argues persuasively, and Rapunzel slows a little, moves back from him mistrustfully.

"Are you… telling me what to do?" she asks quietly.

"_No," _he shoots, realising that was exactly what he was trying to do. "I just mean… if you go – if I'm alone, it'll... it'll just be easier for me." He thinks he's managed to save it, but then Rapunzel stops completely, and that notion quickly disappears.

"Oh," she says, her voice frighteningly soft. "So… you're saying I'm a burden?"

"What? No, no," he lilts awkwardly. "I mean. Not exactly."

"Then what?" she says. "Am I holding you back? Or do you just want to get away from me?" her tone mixes between hurt and anger, like even she can't work out which way she feels.

"No, honey, no," he rushes, but comes of sounding condescending, and Rapunzel's mood only sours more – she hates being spoken to that way, just like Gothel used to. Soon Eugene has to stop walking or he'll leave her behind, though it's horribly clear he doesn't want to. "Look, I'll just be able to-"

"I don't understand, Eugene," she says with a sharp, bitter anger. "I thought you said it was _my_ life – that I'm independent... and... and _don't_ need anyone to look after me – that I shouldn't let anyone tell me what to do!"

"You don't – you... I'm not," he stutters, but soon realises he doesn't have an answer for her. As much as he says she can be free and do what she wants, even he is trying to put Rapunzel away, keep her safe, tell her what to do – what's _best_ for her. However, he does want to go after Francis alone – they've seen once already how volatile he is, how quickly he can turn violent, and Eugene wouldn't be able to live with himself if she were hurt. But he realises that deep down he _never_ wants her to be hurt, and that isn't something he can do, it isn't even something he should _try _to do.

"You're right..." he admits, and then forces the words he knows he must say. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I just wanted to keep you safe," he explains shamefully, and Rapunzel's anger has nothing to push against any more. "Okay. We have to keep going," he says with a touch of resignation, and reaches for her, trying to urge her along.

"Wait, what does that mean, then?" she queries, reluctant in her footsteps.

"What does _what?"_ he echoes bemusedly.

"Well, am I coming with you or not?"

"You do what you want!" he retorts, and it isn't meant to sound like a snap, but she recoils, frowning, and he realises that's how she's heard it. "I just mean... what you do isn't for me to decide, is it?" he rephrases, but the damage has already been done; still, he tries to explain. "_I'm_ going after Francis, and some things I have to do alone – not because of you, just because... that's how they're done," he talks faster and faster, trying to get his point across. "Yes, it'll probably be dangerous, but if you still want to go, I can't stop you," he concludes, and then turns forwards and starts pacing after Max, leaving Rapunzel behind, forcing himself not to look back.

It may seem harsh, and he's hardly proud of himself for being so brutal, but he won't treat her like a fragile treasure – something to be kept away from the real world. She deserves more than that. He only walks for a couple of metres before he hears her patter after him.

"Wait, Eugene!" she bursts. "I don't... what are you saying?"

"I'm going to cut off Francis," he states. "Come with me, or make your own way back to the Kingdom." He certainly doesn't want her to do the latter, but he must present the option.

"Why would you... are you angry?" she asks, distressed as she tries to keep up with him.

"No," he answers instantly. "You're absolutely right, about everything," he states, and he sounds honest, but troubled.

"Then why are we fighting?" she cries, at a loss to what is going on. Nothing feels quite right – as if even though he's yielded, the argument isn't over.

"We aren't," he replies simply, but she grabs for him.

"Eugene, stop!" she demands. "I'm not – we're not finished! I-" she starts, but never manages to finish the sentence, because he suddenly grabs her, and then kisses her so hard she feels like he might suck the breath out of her. She's shocked – it doesn't really seem like the time or place – but instead of pushing him away, Rapunzel soon finds herself wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing back just as furiously, and she isn't entirely sure how it happened. However, just as she's getting into it, he stops as quickly as he started and pulls away.

"Feel better?" he asks bluntly, a slight smile hidden behind an otherwise serious countenance.

"I... uh... actually, yes," she answers bemusedly, fingers coming to her mouth out of curiosity. "How did you do that?"

"I'll explain later," he answers slyly, and then hurries her onwards. He'll leave the joys of make-up romance for another time. Issues seemingly resolved, they keep up a good speed, and manage to reach the Kingdom before dark.

"Right," he announces as they come to a stop before the cobbled streets. "Hopefully we got here before him."

"How will you know?" she inquires.

"Well, he'll either come past or he won't. The bridge is the only way back into the Kingdom. I'm gonna hide and wait for him," he adds, and Rapunzel notices how he says I, not we. He isn't trying to ignore her, but it's a subtle enough hint she has to look out for herself.

"Can't I wait too?" she suggests, but Eugene shakes his head.

"No, it's too risky if we're together," he explains, trying not to sound too much like a master thief – which he is, give or take a few months. "Tracking is best done alone. You'll have to work something out for yourself. Try not to get caught," he suggests amenably, giving her a cheeky wink. "First rule of being an outlaw." He shouldn't be proud of corruption, but he does get a little kick from helping her get along outside the boundaries of _should and shouldn't _ – he really did mean it when he said a little rebellion is healthy.

"Okay..." Rapunzel murmurs, biting her lip and trying to work out what she'll do with herself – it occurs to her that this independence and forming-her-own-plans thing might be a little harder than she was led to believe, and ends up wondering if maybe she _should _just go back to the palace. She drops to a crouch, biting her thumb thoughtfully and mulling over everything she's had to come to grips with in the past day or two. Eugene keeps an eye on the bridge and says nothing; he knows he's being a little tough, throwing her in the deep end like this, but it's the way _he _learned, so no matter how hard it is, he wants her to decide for herself.

"Oh!" Rapunzel yelps suddenly, jumping up so fast she almost slams her head into the bottom of Eugene's jaw – it's only a very quick dodge that spares them. "You're right, Eugene," she announces decidedly. "Absolutely right – what a good idea!" She neglects to tell him what the idea actually _is, _but seems so excited he can't get a word in edgeways to ask._  
><em>

"Wait a- where are you-" he clips, trying to catch her before she all but runs off.

"Likeyousaid!" she chirps as if it should mean something to him. "I'vegottogo, haven't I?"

"You... do?" he echoes bemusedly; he tries to keep up with her, but the pace and pitch at which she talks makes his head start to throb.

"Uhuh," she replies, and in a heartbeat she's flush against him in an energetic hug. "RightbecarefulEugene, Iloveyoubye!" She kisses him on the mouth, muffling any attempts to question her further – then she's gone, haring off into the crowds with a cheery pat of Max's nose.

Eugene can't deny he's worried, watching Rapunzel disappear – a strangled part of him wants to go after her, grab her and make sure she never gets out of his sight again, but he puts it to rest, because part of him is a little proud too. He takes up a quiet spot away from the street, and keeps his eyes trained on the people bustling in and out of the city. When time starts to wear on and he still hasn't seen Francis, he begins doubting – did he miss him, did the boy arrive before them? Or had he been robbed and left for dead on the way? Thankfully, just when he's about to give up, he spots the familiar crop of coppery hair.

He leaves Max on a hitching post with a bag of apples, and sets off behind Francis, keeping a safe distance behind and slipping through the masses with a practised, familiar ease. The same can't be said for Francis, unfortunately, because he bolts straight for the rich end of town, without the slightest consideration for the scores of potential witnesses they pass by. Eugene tries to get close enough to grab him, but at the same time has to keep far enough away that no suspicion is raised until the moment he _does _strike, so it proves to be no small challenge.

The new 'Flynn' doesn't even appear to have a plan laid out for his next heist, because he wanders aimlessly from place to place as night falls, peering over walls and into windows like a shady ne'er-do-well, and Eugene isn't sure whether he wants to punch him for trying to commit a crime, or for trying to do it so _badly_.

The streets thin out as the evening wears on, and Eugene is just considering making his move when Francis suddenly stops outside a large, stately home of his choosing. When he starts loudly rattling the windows to see if they're unlocked, Eugene covers his face with his hands and quietly groans – pleading he'll get a chance to catch Francis before he goes and gets himself caught.

Eugene waits for Francis's pathetic break-in attempts to fall flat, when the boy comes upon an unlocked ground-floor window and swings it wide open. Groaning a second time, Eugene decides the occupant deserves being robbed if they're so careless – they might as well put out a doormat saying _thieves welcome_. He hurriedly slips alongside the wall of the house and draws up next to the still-open window, vaulting inside and landing without a sound – more than could be said for Francis, who from the sounds and looks of things knocked over a table on his way in.

"Francis!" he hisses, fumbling his way through the dark room. "Francis! Get back here!" He staggers, almost tripping over a rug, then hears footsteps from the far end of the room. "Francis?" He follows the noise, racing across the room and catching hold of a figure. "We are leaving _right now_," he orders, but realises as he lays his hands on the person's shoulders, that it is definitely _not_ Francis.

Eugene hears a soft, rattling movement, and then a match strikes in the hands of the master of the house, lighting up his face like a skull. The Captain of the Guards grins like a jack-o-lantern, and speaks like an executioner.

"Rider, you're not going anywhere."

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><p><em>Dum dum dum!<em>

Well that's that done with at last. I'm almost finished the actual story here, so we should hopefully be able to wrap this up before christmas =D

A bit of Eugene and Rapunzel to lift the back to school blues!

Better yet, leave a review! (It rhymes... kinda. O_o)


	13. The Escape

I may or may not be a little tipsy on cider, but I came home tonight and realised that I hadn't even updated in AGES and I love Eugene and Rapunzel too much to do this to them. Also the How To Train Your Dragon soundtrack makes my soul dance with love and joy and all things wonderful, which is a great boost to creativity and inspiration.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~13~

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><p>There is one thought in Eugene's mind as he stands with his hands on the Captain's shoulders, a single match burning between them. That thought is <em>run<em>.

He doesn't pause to consider if Francis set him up deliberately, or if the Guards have used him as a lure – or even if the Captain knows Francis is here at all – he doesn't have _time_ to worry about those things. Instead he blows out the match, and under the cover of dark he twists and fights away.

"Rider!" the Captain snarls, flailing blindly after him. They tear around the room like a cat and mouse, until Eugene spies the open window he climbed in through and starts to run, sprinting for all he's worth and then leaping into a full-out dive. He lands into a roll across the Captain's immaculately trimmed lawn, flattening a flowerbed in the process. "Riderrrr!" another bellow comes again; the Captain tries to climb out the window after him, but is hampered by his long pyjamas, while Eugene stands and turns to face him.

"It may sound hard to believe," he opens cautiously, "but there's actually a perfectly reasonable explanation for this." Somehow, the Captain doesn't look convinced – steam might as well be pouring out of his nostrils and ears – and Eugene knows it is time to do one of the things he does best, so turns on his toes and flees.

However, he knows he can't run forever, as he bursts out onto the street and tears past the endless gated houses, pursued by slipper-muffled footsteps. He has no direction, runs like a penned, wild animal trying to find a bolt-hole, when something suddenly catches him by the arm, and he goes into a sprawling heap – lashing around like a knot at the end of a whip. He scrambles back to his feet and pulls frantically on the tie for all of a second, because that is how long it takes him to realise exactly what holds him.

"Rapunzel?" he cries into the empty street, the braided hair still wrapped firmly around his forearm, and feels a couple of distinct tugs. He tests his weight, following the trail up to a rooftop out of sight. He hasn't exactly got any better options, so leans back and walks up the wall. When he pulls himself over the rafters, scrambling onto the rooftop ledge, Rapunzel is leant casually against a chimney stack, one end of her hair wrapped around it tight.

"Eugene," she says brightly as he appears, "are you-" she never finishes the inquiry, because he charges forwards and scoops her up in his arms swinging the two of them around in a moment of delirious relief.

"Am I glad to see you!" he proclaims, but she quickly wriggles free and sets her feet back on the floor.

"It's okay," she evenly replies. "I just followed you fro-"

"Wait... you followed me?" he says suspiciously. "For how long?" He doesn't like to think he's slipped enough to be tailed by a plucky eighteen year-old and not even realise it.

"All day," she answers, and his jaw drops – unfortunately, he has.

"You... you..._ all day?_" he echoes uselessly, and the princess nods.

"I stayed on rooftops," she explains with a shrug, and that makes a little more sense – although he still kicks himself for not noticing.

"So you just followed me around all day? _That_ was your plan?" he sceptically professes.

"Well, everyone needs backup," she remarks. "I thought you might need my help." As it turned out, he _had _needed rescuing – a fact she is a little proud of. "So what happened?" she asks after a moment's pause.

"I wish I knew," he answers despondently. "I went in after Francis, and the next thing I know the Captain's breathing down my neck." He would accuse the boy of doing it on purpose, but he's in doubt as to whether Francis is capable of a streak of brilliance like that – judging from his other actions, at least. "So I ran – what else could I do?"

"Couldn't you explain?" she suggests.

"_Explain?_" he repeats with a shock of laughter. "Would that be before or after he ripped my guts out?"

"Well I... I..." Rapunzel stammers; she doesn't want the two of them to fight with the Captain all the time, but he and Eugene just can't seem to manage one civil word between the two of them.

"Hey, wait a minute," Eugene starts suddenly. "You saw me run from the house, right?"

"Sure," she answers.

"But... you didn't see Francis?"

"I... no... _no!" _she cries, and the realisation hits them simultaneously; he grabs her by the arm and they rush back towards the house.

"We might still catch him!" he urges, as she unwraps her hair from the chimney and throws it over her shoulder.

They clatter over rooftops together – for once Eugene can appreciate the advantage Rapunzel has barefooted – her steps fall lightly, she moves with an almost feline silence, while his thick soles thunk down on every sprinting step with all the grace of an elephant in tap shoes.

They reach the house next to the Captain's, panting against chimney stacks, and peer across the gap that separates the two stately homes, while light flickers from behind gauze curtains in one of the upstairs windows. A figure passes by in shadow, hard to see clearly, but it could well be Francis – judging by the womanly scream that comes moments later, it most likely is.

"The Captain's _married_?" Eugene says scathingly – he doesn't imagine that's how the Captain yells, at least. When he looks back to Rapunzel, she's busy lassoing her hair, throwing it around the Captain's chimney and tugging it firm, ready to swing across. "Hold up, I'll go first," he offers – if one of them has to fall from a two storey roof on a rope-hair, he'd rather it was him.

"No, I'll go," she insists instead. "I'm lighter."

"But it's dangerous," he replies. "What if you..." he trails off when she cocks an eyebrow at him. "... Fine," he grumbles, "but if you get broken, I'm telling the King and Queen it was your own fault." He doesn't mean it, of course – if she got broken he would probably go down after her, because aside from not being able to live with himself, the Kingdom would probably lynch him in the streets. It was a pressure he tried not to think about when they were running around performing high-risk acrobatics.

"Okay," she settles, "we'll both go." Then she hands him the braid and sets her hands on her hips.

"All right," he consents, and carefully tests the grip of the swing, looping it around one of his hands. "Climb up, then." In a split-second her legs are wrapped all the way round his waist, her arms looped round his neck, but he's not sure he even see her _move_. "How do you keep on doing that?" he asks wondrously, but Rapunzel is too busy kicking him in the sides like a horse to answer.

"Come on," she rushes. "Hurry! Francis might get away!"

"Okay, okay. Here goes nothing." As soon as he manages to defy the self-preservation instinct, Eugene leaps from the safety of the rooftop and goes sailing through the air.

"Woohoo!" Rapunzel shrieks excitedly, which rather ruins the idea of being low-profile about sneaking back into the house, but at least the braid holds; Eugene braces his feet to thump against the side of the house still in one piece, and quickly starts to climb up, Rapunzel still hanging from his back like a bush-baby – the sensation isn't actually all that unpleasant, circumstances aside. Eventually they reach a full-length window, which is unfortunately locked so he climbs a little higher and then lifts a foot – there are some advantages to wearing boots, so he might as well make use of them.

"No!" she cries in shock when he stamps out one of the panes, then reaches through and flicks the latch up; sometimes, the thief way really was the easiest – whether Rapunzel approves of it or not. As they swoop in through the open window and bounce onto the floor, a terror-stricken woman in a nightgown and cap shrieks at them. Presumably it is the Captain's wife, unless the military officer has raced back home and donned a dress and cold-cream, which Eugene sadly enough doubts, as it would be priceless blackmail material.

Rapunzel scrambles up and hops back to the window, picking neatly between broken pieces of glass in a way that makes Eugene shudder; then she grabs her hair and spins it a few times, and the braid drops in a neat coil over her arm. A lot of people who've seen the princess using her hair think she has sentient control over it, because it seems impossible that she can manipulate it the way she does without some kind of magic. Really, she just had a lot of time to practice, but there were very few people who knew about that – Eugene suspects he's possibly the only one with an understanding of that, being the only still-living person to have seen what she came from. Then, while she's at the window, he rushes over to the Captain's poor, terrified wife.

"Which way did he go?" he asks a little too boisterously, because the woman just carries on screaming. He's about to ask again when he hears a noise, and turns to spot what can only be Francis climbing out of a window at the far end of a corridor. "This way, Rapunzel!" he barks, and without further notice sprints from the room. The princess is hot on his heels and speeds past the quivering woman, only to suddenly stop and doubleback, tenderly patting her shaking hands.

"I'm so sorry about all this trouble," she says empathetically. "I promise, there's a _really_ good explanation." She doesn't, however, wait long enough to give said explanation and carries on after Eugene, who is just about to jump out a window.

"Wait for me!" she yelps, and a severely confused woman watches the two burglars – one of which she's certain is Flynn Rider, even though another one already came through once already, and the other looking _uncannily_ like the lost princess – both casually disappear out of her first-floor window. The night first went awry when her husband woke to the sound of their downstairs being burgled, and things have only gone from bad to worse – now she's lost all sense of reality whatsoever; so the Captain's long-suffering wife decides it must be one of those nights where it is better to just go back to sleep, and picks up a bottle of brandy on her way to bed.

Eugene is hurriedly climbing down the wall when Rapunzel shoots past him on her hair, landing with a bounce and then haring after Francis, who she can make out in the dim light still cast from the house, racing through the Captain's garden.

"Francis! Stop!" she screams, but he reaches the back wall and starts to scale it. She hears Eugene's footsteps catching up behind her, and realises what she has to do – they'll never catch him on foot, especially not on the other side of the wall, where they'll lose him on the streets again and half the guards will be out for blood. So she skids to a stop and braces herself, throws up one end of her hair and spinning it over her head. Eugene slows down next to her, panting heavily.

"Think you can make the shot?" he asks her breathily, and she silently nods. When Francis stands up on top of the garden wall, his silhouette cast sharply against the light of a streetlamp, and Rapunzel releases her weapon. The braid flies out and hits the mark perfectly, catching Francis around the middle. With a quick tug she pulls him back, and he falls down into Eugene's waiting arms, dashing forwards to catch him just in time.

"You're comin' with us, kid," he says softly, and though Francis struggles and kicks, before he can break free Rapunzel has looped her hair around him again and again, until he's wrapped like a caterpillar and can only wriggle in protest.

"I won't go! Put me down!" he spits, but Eugene just jostles him onto his shoulder. "Gag him," he tells Rapunzel, who looks on with dismay. "Do you want him shouting up the whole Kingdom?" he challenges, and she realises his point.

"I'm really sorry," she mumbles as she reaches for her bag and pulls out the remainder of her bandages, which she ties around Francis's mouth while Eugene holds him still. "Where are we going?" she asks once their captive is ready for transportation, and Eugene points to a gate that leads into the neighbouring garden.

"We're gonna need some help," he says instead, and sets off at a brisk pace with Rapunzel bounding along by his elbow. He cuts towards the street, and sneaks to the end of the track that runs into the property's grounds; bringing his fingers to his mouth, he whistles loudly – nothing happens. "Psst," he whispers to Rapunzel. "Get Max."

Rapunzel purses her lips and quietly whistles, barely loud enough for Eugene to hear, yet moments later Max comes bowling into the property, nostrils flaring.

"How do you-" he begins, and then gives up with a sigh, and flops Francis down over Max's back. "C'mon, horse," he grunts, and gives a tug to lead him on. Max tries to bite his ear, but Eugene dodges expectantly.

"Where are we going?" Rapunzel asks again, but Eugene suddenly clasps his hand over her mouth and pulls her, the horse and his furious load off the road and out of sight. A minute or two later, a couple of guards amble past them, talking loudly about the state the Kingdom's been in recently and how they ought be grateful for the safety of their jobs.

"Wow," whispers Rapunzel when her mouth is released, the guards safely past them. "You're good."

"Flynn Rider, baby," he lilts with a wink – a parody of himself. "I was the best." Francis makes some muffled noises of protest from his position, but then Max swings his rear around and bumps the boy head-first into the wall, and the figure goes limp.

"Max!" Rapunzel scolds, only for Eugene to hold out his fist and bump it against Max's hoof.

"Nice call," the former criminal compliments, and then strolls back out into the road. "Let's go," he adds seriously. "We've got a fair way yet, and at this rate it might take all night."

"But _where _are we going?" Rapunzel says once more, a little exasperated by his evasiveness.

"Rapunzel, there's only one place _to _go," he replies, and glances at Francis – now with sadness and regret. "The only place I can take him," he says solemnly, fixing her with an absolute look. "Home."

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><p>And th-th-th-that's all folks! Until the next update, I mean XD<p>

If you leave a review I will do a little dance of joy and excitement. Or if I feel like it.


	14. The Talk

This is lovely – in England we're having a sudden bout of summery weather even though it's officially autumn. Such wonderful things can only mean not nearly enough work being done, and updates being done instead.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~14~

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><p>When Francis wakes, his hands are tied once more, but this time he's bound with normal rope. He's lashed to a stiff, uncomfortable dining chair, and only has to look around for a second before he realises <em>exactly <em>where he is, and the knowledge stomps fear through him. He hears a quiet clink of china behind him, shuffling steps, and Aunt Aya strolls into view, the flickering gas lamps tinting her hair to a bleached gold.

"Francis McCormick," she says austerely, and it doesn't matter if he's ten or twenty – he is in _big _trouble. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"It – it was Eugene!" he yells while struggling frantically. "Eugene did it all!" Aunt Aya sighs and crosses her arms and clicks her tongue at him disappointedly.

"No more lies," she tells him. "It's time, Francis. Time to tell the truth."

"I am! Eugene, he-" he insists, but in a flash the woman steps forwards and clips him hard around the ear. He squeals like a child and tries to shield himself, but his hands are tied so there's nothing he can do.

"Let me go!" he wails in a long-suffering tone.

"Will you try to run away?" she demands; his fidgeting provides answer enough. "Well the doors are locked, and Eugene is still here," she says sternly, "so you might as well just not bother. Even if you get out, he'll only bring you back again."

"Oh," the boy bites. "_He's_ here."

"You're dammed right he is," Aya scolds. "He'll be staying until you two have this out and make up."

"What?" Francis bursts. "That's not fair! You can't make me! Eugene, Eugene-"

"Eugene only wants to help," she tells him. "He's a grown man now – he's facing up to his responsibilities. He wants to make amends." She pauses for a heartbeat. "At last."

"Well good for him," Francis sneers, then flinches when Aya moves her hand again, but she doesn't strike him.

"I'm not here to change your mind," she says soothingly, and Francis dares to look up, surprised.

"You're... not?"

"No, pet," she answers with a weak fondness, letting her hand fall to his hair and comb through the tussled mess. "I'm here to convince you listen to what Eugene has to say. Whatever you feel after that is your own business."

"No," he spits like a tantruming child. "You can't make me!"

"Don't be difficult," she snaps, and her voice has the power of a piston; Francis recoils, then crumbles, drooping his head.

"Why should I listen to you... why should I listen to _him_?" he mumbles sourly, and she lets out a sigh.

"He's family," Aya answers simply. "He's the only family you have." She'd seen enough to know there was slightly more than friendship between the two boys, slightly too large an age gap to be peers. Although Francis hero-worshiped Eugene, in return the idol took care of the boy, almost raised him – albeit not with a great set of morals – always protecting him far beyond rationality dictated. Eugene enjoyed basking in the spotlight Francis gave him, but their loyalty was always a two-way street – he'd taken the blame for Francis's mistakes, got into fights on his behalf, and stole far too many things that curiously ended up amongst Francis's possession over the years. However, Eugene also passed on his streak of stubborness, because Francis just snorts in contempt, denying her truth.

"Eugene cares about you," she tells him patiently, and sees a flicker in the boy's eyes. "Do you think he'd do this if he didn't care?" she points out.

"This doesn't seem much like caring to me," he retorts. "He's just trying to cover his own back, cause they want to pin Flynn's crimes-" he cuts off, realising he's said a little too much, but Aya doesn't seem surprised or even bothered.

"He didn't have to take you here," she points out. "He could leave you to the Kingdom Guards, let you get caught through your own stupid folly – lock you up for what you've done. Why would he bring you to me?"

"So you can punish me," Francis mutters, and she just chuckles.

"Is that so?" she says scathingly. "If we were going to punish you, wouldn't it have happened by now? You're never too old for a spanking, child." She treats him with the same indifferent humour as she's treated most things over the years, borne from a life acclimatised to trouble.

"Then _you _tell me what he wants, if it's so obvious," Francis spits resentfully, and Aya hushes his temper, ruffles his hair as if he really is no more than ten.

"He's trying to save you, pet. He cares about you – If Eugene had his way, you'd walk a free man out of this house." By now the words start to rust through his defences, and Francis's brow creases.

"What?" he mumbles almost inaudibly. "Really?"

"You ask him now," she dares. "He'd take the fall if you asked – he always has."

"No... no he wouldn't," Francis denies, but he's no longer certain.

"Yes," Aya corrects. "He would."

"But-!" the boy starts furiously. "He can't just- I mean! He's not allowed to-"

"Hush," she interjects. "Keep that temper down, dear – we're doing so well. Now, Eugene knows he's wronged you... if he didn't_ I'd_ have made it clear as a bell," she threatens tangentially. "But he does, and that's why he wants to make fix it."

"Well... how... but... why _should_ he?" the captive growls. "He's got it made, hasn't he? Got his pardon, his princess. Eugene has his perfect life all sorted out for him. He can't just go... go all this time without a word, then suddenly stop and _change_. Like it never meant anything to him. He just... meets some girl and then he... he-"

"You know I can't answer you, Francis," she interjects. "So why not ask him yourself?" This time, she sees him consider the idea. "Just _talk_ to him," she suggests. "If you do, I give my word we'll let you go afterwards."

"You... you – promise?" he asks, and she removes her glasses, shining them with her sleeve.

"I promise, Francis," she says quietly; she has to trust Eugene will put things right, but it's a gamble she's willing to take.

"Okay," he grinds out. "I'll talk – but _only _to him," he adds, and Aya nods.

"Of course, pet," she says understandingly. "I'll go fetch him now. I'd tell you to sit tight, but you can't really do anything else," she titters privately, and then strolls out the door. No sooner has it shut than Francis starts to struggle and fight like a snared rabbit, rocking so violently he nearly tips straight over on his seat. He gets nowhere – his half-baked escape surmounts to nothing, and a minute or so later the door flies open, but it is Rapunzel who dashes though, not Eugene.

"Francis!" she yelps, running to him urgently. "Are you okay? Are you- did you-"

"Hey," Eugene's voice comes from the back of the room, quiet and assured. "Leave him be."

"But I was just-!" she bursts, turning away.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Francis bites, scowling viciously at Rapunzel, straining away from her when she tries to touch him; like he can't stand that she cares.

"What? But I-" she starts, her voice carrying a shocked hurt, but Eugene crosses the room and holds her shoulder, pulling her back a step as he moves forwards himself. Aya only meant to let him in, but Rapunzel rushed forwards before she could be stopped.

"This is about me and Francis," he says calmly. "Please, go back outside."

"I... you want me to go?" She sounds half-hurt and half-offended, unable to understand why she can't be included – why she must be _ex_cluded.

"Just get lost!" snaps Francis. "Can't you get that it's not all about _you_ – you... stuck-up-"

"Shut up, Francis," Eugene interrupts viciously. "You say one more word and I'll give you a whole lot to be sorry about." Francis stops, because doesn't doubt for a second that Eugene is serious, and it burns him up that even now he still defends her over him. When he continues, though, he holds the same hardness with her. "Rapunzel, _please_ go," he restates – it is no longer a request, but a demand, and her face falls; as if summoned, Aunt Aya comes in to investigate.

"Oh my. Sweetie, come with me," she addresses Rapunzel, strolling up and taking the lost princess by the arm, leading her away like a wayward lamb. "The boys need to be alone."

"But!" she protests, and royalty or not, Aya clicks her tongue and scolds the girl like one of her own wards.

"No buts!" she crows, pulling Rapunzel unceremoniously out the door. She herds the distressed girl into the kitchen and soon sets a cup of tea in her hand.

"I don't get it," Rapunzel pleads weakly, fingers wrapped tightly round her cup, feeling the heat pulse through her hands. "I thought I-"

"I know you're involved, pet, but this is between Eugene and Francis," Aya insists. "It's not your place to talk to him."

"Why not?" she asks, and there's no fight to her voice any more, just a wish to understand.

"Those two have a long and... _colourful_ history," explains Aya. "They're more like family than friends, that's why it has to be Eugene to talk to him, and no one else. He's the only one with any right." Although she is like a mother to them, Aunt Aya is a mother to hundreds; it is Eugene alone who has a unique connection to the frustrated, wounded boy in the next room.

"Oh..." Rapunzel murmurs – she's never had that kind of family, so can only imagine what it's like. "I... I get it... _kinda_."

"There, there. Drink your tea and worry less," She comforts professionally – really she ought to be addressing Rapunzel as 'Your Highness' or at least by her title, but it doesn't seem appropriate and the princess doesn't mind – she likes being treated normally.

"I just... don't know what to do," Rapunzel confesses.. "I feel like there's nothing I _can_ do."

"That's nothing to fret over," Aya replies. "You just let the boys sort it out between themselves." She talks with a serene calmness, like there is nothing in the world that could ruffle her, which Rapunzel watches with a kind of awe.

"But aren't you worried? Francis... he tried to... what if they fight?" she asks, and the silvery woman laughs.

"They both know a great deal better than to brawl in _my _house," she chuckles. "Francis will cool off and listen to reason in the end. I have faith they'll settle it – they always do."

"... They do?" she echoes curiously.

"Oh yes. You forget I raised these boys, sweetie. No matter _how_ old they get, you're all still kids to me," she says with another melodic laugh, and Rapunzel knows she's being included as one of the children too – maybe because that's what she is, in spite of her trying to play as an adult.

"You know," Aya adds after a minute of pensive silence. "You really ought to go home. It's quite the upset you've caused." She doesn't mention anything directly – like that Rapunzel is the Lost Princess, the darling of the Kingdom, that she's more famous even than Flynn Rider, and the Kingdom has been running mad with news of her disappearance. She doesn't need to.

"Oh," Rapunzel sighs; she knew when she came here that she'd as good as handed herself in, but facing the reality is still hard. "I'm... I...I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I just... wanted to make sure Eugene was safe," she explains pitiably. "I thought I'd be able to, that I'm... old enough to do what I want."

"That's being young, not old," Aya corrects her sagely.

"But Eugene-" she starts, and that's the real issue – but _Eugene _is an adult, and she wants desperately to catch up, not drag him back.

"Eugene?" Aya questions, and then burst out laughing. "Why, it took him _twice_ as long as anyone to grow up," she hoots, setting down her cup she's so overcome. "In fact, I think you're just about the only thing that did it." Rapunzel looks down with the comment, a little flushed; she finds it hard imagine she had such a dramatic impact on Eugene's life, that she really could be so significant to another person.

"Then why... but I... even though... I just," she laments quietly. "I love Eugene, he says he loves me too, so... so why is it still so confusing? So _hard_?" Aunt Aya laughs again, in her high-pitched songbird chuckle, and if her smile weren't so reassuring Rapunzel would be even more worried.

"No one in love will ever tell you it's easy, pet," she titters. "Let an old maid tell you that much." It isn't what Rapunzel wants to hear, and she heaves a long, weary sigh, stretching into a yawn. She finds herself half-wishing life were simple again – simple as it was in the tower, without the being captive part. This must be the price for freedom, she thinks – for a real life.

"You need some sleep, sweetie," Aya tells her. "We have some beds to spare. If you're quiet and don't wake the children, I don't mind harbouring a few fugitives for the night."

"I... thanks," she mumbles.

"But you go back tomorrow," she adds with a sure, effortlessly maternal certainty, and Rapunzel nods. "Your poor mother and father."

"Yeah... I hope they'll accept my apology," she says glumly.

"I'm sure they'll just be glad to see you safe," Aya assures her, crossing the room and taking the empty teacup from Rapunzel's hands; she is rinsing it in a sink when Eugene appears at the door, slumped against the doorframe; he looks exhausted and world-weary, but is at least in one piece.

"Eugene!" Rapunzel yelps, moving at the same time, and his arms are full of her at the exact moment he hears her call his name, which is a somewhat disconcerting sensation.

"Uhuhmm," he groans inarticulately, hugging her to him drowsily. "I came... to..." he yawns, and meets Aya's eyes, easily reading the question in them. "Francis is fine," he mumbles, yawning again, his eyes drooping. "He wants to talk to you, Rapunzel," he adds, and gives her a gentle squeeze, enjoying the freedom to touch her without worrying about who will see and judge.

"He does?" she chirps, and he nods groggily.

"Yeah, come on. Then I think we all could use some shut-eye," he adds, and Aya nods wisely at him.

"It's not _that _late," the princess remarks; the two of them have been up beyond this far too many times to count – or admit in adult company.

"You don't know how early the kids are going to be up, sweetie," Aya comments. "Run along now."

"Mhm," Eugene grunts, and then tugs Rapunzel away; they walk back to the room Francis was in, but when she enters the chair is empty. At first glance she thinks he'ss gone, but she doesn't sense Eugene panicking, and soon spots the boy lounging full-length along a sofa, his feet propped up on the end, his hair blending against the bright cushions.

"Oh, you're here," Francis rushes when Eugene coughs conspicuously, announcing their presence. "Look, Rapunzel," he begins straight away. "I just wanted to... wanted to say I'm sorry." He stares at her with an intense honesty, and although she doesn't claim to be a perfect judge of character, she trusts him unquestionably.

"You are? But... what for?" she asks meekly.

"For... well," he stammers, "Eugene told me a lot of stuff tonight... stuff about you. What you've been through. I'm sorry that you... I'm sorry about... just about _everything_," he despairs, lost for words. "I hope we can start over."

"Huh? Of course we can!" she answers effortlessly, resentment passing her by; a smile balanced with relief and surprise. She walks to Francis, and then in a shadow of their first meeting, she holds out her hand to him. "Nice to meet you," she says tentatively, and the boy smiles, getting to his feet and shaking her hand, "I'm Rapunzel."

"... Francis," he replies, no trace of anger or unhappiness in his voice, no shadow of resentment in his eyes. "I hope we can be friends."

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><p>Quite a positive place to finish up on, but we're heading towards the end of the story, so things will start tying up here and there.<p>

As for what Eugene told Francis... that will have to wait!

I love to hear from readers, so reviews are always appreciated.


	15. The Trouble

Wow this took ages because I went back to uni and I am SO GORRAM BUSY ALWAYS oh dear god. Finishing a degree is hard guys, especially when you get flu half way into the first time. I'm bricking it quite a lot, but on a plus note I did get Tangled on DVD for my 21st birthday. OH MAN HOW COOL AM I. Really fucking cool is the answer. Oh dear late night updates with much rambling yet again.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~15~

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><p>"<em>Bunk beds?<em>" whispers Rapunzel, scathing and a little incredulous as light from the hall outlines the two beds stacked one on top of the other, clearly sized for a child – definitely not a fully grown man. She probably ought to have questioned Aya's sending them up to bed together a little more, but she'd been too excited by the prospect to puzzle over it. The discovery of the two beds, not side by side, but on top of one another, explains the lack of concern. The beds are barely enough for her, let alone Eugene, who she can just make out nodding, a finger to his lips – the reason is clear, the quiet breath of sleeping children in beds all around them.

He gives Rapunzel a boost onto the top of the two beds, and then settles on the bottom. The old structure creaks disturbingly loud in protest, but no one around them seems to stir. They lie silently for a few minutes, resisting the urge to talk, but he cannot sleep, and it doesn't seem like she can either – her hand dangles from the bed above, the fingers flexing boredly, clearly awake.

Eventually he reaches up and draws a finger along the inside of her palm, wrist to fingertip; she startles a little, but then her fingers twist to link with his.

"Eugene?" she says inquisitively.

"Can't sleep?" he murmurs, low and soft.

"I was... I was thinking," she breathes, fingers tightening around his, "what did you say to Francis? He seemed so..."

"I told him everything," he answers, his voice a little clearer, but the children sleep on blissfully. "It was the only way."

"You mean you-" she starts.

"Yeah," Eugene answers calmly. "He had it all wrong – Flynn Rider, you... the whole lot." He doesn't blame Francis, though – he can't be blamed for drawing his own conclusions. Eugene wasn't there to put him right. "So I told him the real story." He feels her hand tighten as he uses their own code – the _real _story, not the one they tell, the easy version.

"Oh," she murmurs. "How did he...?"

"The magic hair was quite hard to get past him," he half-jokes, "but he got it in the end."

He did try to explain what happened without involving Rapunzel, but he _couldn't_. It was impossible to say how and why he changed without her; she was everything. Although Francis had fought at first, hurled some abuse, Eugene let him because he knew he deserved it. Once his temper burned out, which of course it did – he was ready to ask why, and Eugene was ready to give him the truth. Perhaps by the end Francis wasn't completely happy, but he understood at least, and he knew enough to realise he'd judged Rapunzel wrongly – cared enough to want to apologise.

"You know, he's the first person I told the _real_ story," Eugene muses; Rapunzel told her parents, of course, but he's had no one to confide to. A little to his surprise, telling someone was somehow reassuring, like he confirmed it really happened.

"He seems better now," she remarks hopefully.

"I think he'll be all right," he agrees. "He's always been a bit... he gets all worked up, but then he runs out of steam... we still have a ways to go, but I'm hoping he doesn't feel so... betrayed."

"You came back for him," she points out. "He doesn't need the legend of Flynn Rider if he's got the real you to rely on."

"I guess you're right," he mumbles, and he hasn't thought of it like that; maybe Flynn Rider was all Francis had left of him when he went away.

"The real you is much better," she adds almost shyly, and he squeezes her hand tightly in his, remembering just how much he loves her, how much she means to him. He's about to tell her so, when a movement from somewhere in the room kills his words; they both freeze, feigning sleep and fearing their chatter has woken someone, but nothing comes of the sound. Eugene lets her hand slip from his, and settles down to attempt sleep again, whispering their goodnights across the short space between them.

While his night's sleep was unusually calm, Eugene's awakening the next morning was less so; he is roused by a small child leaping onto his stomach – he thought nothing was worse than Pascal's tongue in his ear, but he'd have gladly swapped for the reptile now, as the air shoots out of his lungs and a gap-toothed child stares him down.

"HEY!" the boy shrieks far too loud for any time in the morning. "You're not meant to be here!"

"Well you're not," he wheezes, "meant to be on _me!" _He manages to shove the kid off him, and props himself up, still trying to regain his breath.

"Who are you?" the boy squawks insistently. "What are you doing here? Who let you in? Auntie is gonna be awful sore if she finds out-" the child starts to chatter, far too fast and far too high-pitched.

"Kid, do you think _anyone _could sneak in past her?" he challenges grouchily, until the child realises the impossibility of such a claim; just as he lapses into a merciful silence, another boy comes barrelling in through the door screaming anew.

"HEY!" the new child screams. "Haven't you heard? Francis is back! And he brought FLYNN RIDER with him!" The boy who was assaulting Eugene now takes one look at him, and then promptly joins in screaming at the full capacity of his tiny lungs.

"Hey! Hey," Eugene bellows, covering his ears with his hands. "_Inside_ voices!" However, the children do not listen, and in no time Rapunzel's head drops upside-down from the top bunk, looking to see what the ruckuss is about.

"Eugene?" she says worriedly. "What's happening?"

"There's a GIRLin here?" one of the boys yelps upon looking up at her, and his friend stares with shock and disapproval.

"Well... who are _you_?" the first boy asks her boldly.

"Uh, I'm Rapunzel," she answers brightly, just before Eugene can try to cut her off.

"Rapunzel? _Rapunzel?_ That's a weird-" one of the boys starts.

"-Isn't that the name of the Lost Princess?" the other finishes, and from somewhere across the room yet another child has woken up.

"That ISthe Lost Princess's name!" the newest addition confirms. "Didn't you guys know? The Lost Princess is Flynn Rider's _girlfriend!" _With this revelation, all three start yelling again. Rapunzel fixes Eugene with an apologetic look, then flips off the top bunk and lands right beside him as he hops to his feet, and they sprint for the door like their life depends on it, flying through and slamming it shut behind them, exchanging desperate looks as tiny fists pummel on the other side of it demandingly.

"Good morning to you too," says Eugene sarcastically.

"I didn't realise they'd go so... _noisy_," she explains weakly, "but why do they think you're Flynn Rider?"

"... Francis," Eugene growls, and sets off down the stairs. "Come on." He leads the way to the kitchen, where Aunt Aya is much-busied preparing a breakfast for twenty, while Francis runs after her manically, ferrying food, plates and children in and out of the places they are meant or not meant to be.

"Oh, you're up," Francis chirps brightly, his face flushed and grinning brightly; at least until Aya shoots him a fear-instilling look and he hurries on with his business.

"Francis!" Eugene snaps, but the boy is already gone. "Why'd you... hey, _Aunt Aya_," he berates with an almost childish whine – it's almost strange, watching him moan at the closest thing he has to a mother with such familiarity. Rapunzel never pictures Eugene as a man with family,with _anyone _to depend on or who depends on him – but everyone has to come from somewhere, she reminds herself, even him.

"About time you showed your face," Aya scolds, all business, and then points to a sideboard stacked with loaves of bread, fresh and clouding the kitchen with a mouth-watering smell. "Slice and serve, please."

"What? _What_?" exclaims Eugene. "We need to talk to Francis, we-"

"He's busy helping me. Like _you_ should be," Aya retorts uninterestedly. "These meals don't just make themselves."

"As fantastically important as breakfast is," Eugene snaps crossly, "did no one happen to mention to you that half of the Kingdom is after _me_, the other half is out for _Francis, _and the entire CITY is looking for Rapunzel!" He turns to her, but finds she's no longer by his side – she is in fact singing merrily as she slices bread with surprising speed and rhythm. "Rapunzel!" he squawks. "Not you too!"

"No one got anything worthwhile done on an empty stomach, Eugene," Aya clucks authoritatively. "Now I know you may have a big, exciting life with your royalty and crime and adventures, but right now, the most important thing to _me_ is getting a lot of hungry mouths fed. Oh _well done_, pet," she coos when Rapunzel presents her with a veritable mountain of sliced bread. "You're such a help. Not like _some," _she mutters with a glare, "some boys who never lifted a _finger_ to help me in his life, ungrateful waste of-"

"Hey!" Eugene's now barely below screaming, and looks frantically for some kind of support, but Rapunzel just shrugs and starts chopping fruit into smiley faces and sun shapes.

Realising that he's out of argument, he gives up and heaves a resentful sigh.

"Fine, fine," he groans, "but we're gonna sort this _right after _breakfast." The insistence more of a plea than a demand, and Eugene has the distinct feeling Aya agrees just to let him feel like he's put his foot down, so he begrudgingly gets on with washing dishes.

Once they're done – children fed, questions fended, and a severe scolding from Aya to scare all the new Flynn Rider and Lost Princess fans out of the room – Eugene, Francis and Rapunzel manage to stay in the same spot for more than five minutes _without _having any chores left to do.

"But I was having fun, Eugene!" pleads Rapunzel, but he shakes his head at her.

"This is more important," he insists, and can't quite believe he's the one saying it; he's not sure if he feels boring or old, but worryingly decides that it's probably both. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean? About what?" she chirps, but then she looks at Francis and remembers everything.

"About me," he says solemnly. "What I've done."

"Now listen close," Eugene starts energetically. "I can prove my innocence without you, no problem. So if you just keep your head down, it'll all blow over and no one will-"

"What? No!" Rapunzel interrupts. "That isn't right! You hurt someone, Francis. You need to make up for-"

"Forget it," Eugene speaks right over her. "They say crime never pays, but I got off all right didn't I?"

"Eugene!" she reprimands, and he scowls at her, only to be scowled at right back.

"Wouldja both shut up!"Francis barks over the two of them, and they fall to guilty silence. "I think... well, I've thought it over, and I don't want to be afraid of getting caught," he concedes. "I think I should own up. _But_," he insists when both of them look like they're about to go off again, "I don't want to hand myself to the guards, they're too... they might... they're _scary._" Eugene nods understandingly; they're neither the most sympathetic nor forgiving branch of the Kingdom's justice system.

"Okay, so what _do_ you want to do?" Rapunzel asks when he pauses.

"Well... I..." he starts hesitatingly, "...I don't know," he mumbles, embarrassed and uncomfortable

"Well," Rapunzel responds, unfazed and ever-optimistic, "why don't we all go together?"

"Together?" he echoes. "Where?

"Home, where else?" she answers with a soft guffaw. "Mom and... the King and Queen, I mean. I'm sure they'll listen to what happened." A private audience with the monarchy was far from the standard criminal proceedings, but extraordinary happenings were somewhat of a speciality for Rapunzel.

"... Sure," Francis agrees tentatively. "I'd like that."

"Then it's settled," she continues confidently, as if it is really that easy. So they make their farewells to Aunt Aya, promise the children that they'll come back soon, and all three set off towards the palace.

They're strolling through the streets with an eerie sense of well-being – things are going well, _too _well – no one seems to be bothered the Lost Princess is running barefoot around the city, delighting in the early morning, much less the two wanted criminals on either side of her. However, it doesn't last long.

Almost from the air, there comes a sudden shout – '_The Princess!' _– and then all hell breaks lose

"Flynn Rider!" another cry comes, following by a clatter on cobblestones and rattle of armour; the three of them break into a run, but the guards are already _everywhere. _Rapunzel wriggling like a live fish and manages to stay out of anyone's grip, but she hears her name called and turns back – two armed guards have hold of Eugene.

"Hey!" she screams, flying back towards him and seizing one of his arms, trying to pry it away from the guard. "Leave him alone! He hasn't done anything!"

"Princess?" the guard exclaims, shaking his head as if to check his eyes aren't deceiving him. "Uh, uh... stay calm, your highness, we have the situation under control."

"Like hell you do!" Eugene bellows. Francis is struggling with another of the guards nearby, and she soon realises fighting is pointless. There's a sudden scrape of metal on metal – the sound of a sword being drawn.

"STOP!" she screams as she spots the man with a drawn sword, and at that point throws herself in front of Eugene, throwing her arms across him protectively. "Don't you dare hurt him!" She looks over to spot Francis being forced to the floor. "Either of them!" she adds forcefully. "By... by... by order of the Princess!" It's the first time she's ever pulled rank, and no one seems to know the correct protocol.

"Your Highness," uncertainly addresses the man who appears to be in charge. "These men are wanted felons. They must be arrested and taken into custody."

"Stop... let Eugene go," Francis interrupts suddenly, struggling to his feet, his hands bound behind his back. "He's done nothing – I'm the one you want. I'm Flynn Rider."

"No!" Eugene barks desperately, "_I'm_ Flynn Rider."

"No, I'M Flynn Rider!" comes a third shout – only, this one from Rapunzel. Eugene, Francis and all the guards turn to look at her quizzically, and there is silence for a distressingly long and awkward moment. "Sorry... I got carried away," she admits sheepishly.

"This is a _serious_ matter, Princess," a guard remarks condescendingly, and turns back to Francis. "Now, what's this about being Rider, son?" he asks gravely. "We don't have time for play-stories."

"I _am _Flynn Rider," Francis insists. "I can tell you all about my crimes – where I went, when I did it, what I took, everything! Just ask."

"Shut up," Eugene butts in. "He's been hit on the head," he tells the guards. "It's making him a little crazy. You boys know who I am, right? Take me in, I'll come quietly if you let them go."

"_No_, Eugene," Rapunzel insists, and then before she can be stopped, the princess zips past the guards and springs onto Eugene's back, knotting her legs around his waist.

"Oh no," she hears him groan, while the guards stare at them awkwardly – unsure how to treat the new development.

"If you arrest them, you arrest me too," she announces defiantly. "I'm not letting go."

"Your highness, please," the sergeant in charge negotiates, thinking of how it will look to the King and Queen.

"You can let us _all _go, or arrest us all," is her ultimatum, and no one says anything for a good while.

The sergeant turns to one of his comrades and speaks in low tone, then eventually pulls a face as he turns back to Eugene and Rapunzel – now joined by Francis, who has been jostled uncoperatively to their side.

"Then... I... I hereby place you all under arrest," the sergeant announces regretfully. "Men... take them to the jailhouse."

"You're mad," Eugene murmurs over his shoulder, to the girl still wrapped around his waist. "Completely mad." As they're handcuffed and marched towards the palace, he comes to the conclusion that he must be even madder, because he loves her all the same.

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><p>I had another ending on this but it was kinda crappy and this seemed much neater and snappier. Interested to know what people are thinking of this, and muchos apologies for the delay in updates, curse you, real life!<p> 


	16. The Solution

Well I know it's been ages but I have RL and then it first makes me not want to retreat into a fandom-world but then it gets too real and I REALLY need to retreat into a fandom world. Also I'm obsessed with the BBC Sherlock suddenly. YAY FOR OBSESSIONS.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

_~15~_

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><p>The King paces along a wall of thick iron bars while his wife stands against them, reaching through to clutch urgently at her daughter, running fingers across her face and through her hair, checking that she is real, unharmed and returned. The Princess seems untroubled by the cell in which she is imprisoned, and repeatedly claims to be fine and well, but the shock to her parents is a too strong to be so easily assuaged.<p>

Though the Queen fusses and frets, the King does not speak for some time, musing carefully over his first words – the other occupants of the cell know they will be important.

"Well," he remarks at last, "this scene did not play out as I imagined it." There follows a moment of silence, in which neither the princess, her suitor, nor the unnamed young man accompanying them knows what to say.

"I... I can explain!" Rapunzel bursts suddenly, exploding with noise so suddenly her mother actually startles, drawing back her hands in surprise. "See, father," she continues, "what happened is that-"

"Let me explain," Eugene interrupts brashly, speaking straight over Rapunzel. "This is, uh, my buddy Francis. Well he's more of a... he's kinda like my... point is, he's not really a part of this," he babbles, right up until the point that he himself is interrupted.

"That's not true!" Francis chimes in with near-perfect timing, joining the others at the front of the cell, his freckled face jammed between bars in a somewhat unsettling fashion. "Don't listen to Eugene, I can explain everything, Your Highness!" he rushes. All three then try to say something at once, and it comes out as a jabbered wave – one which the King silences with one large palm raised high.

"Enough," he decrees, and they go mum. "To... _simplify_ things, how about I ask the questions, and only the person addressed may answer. Does that seem tolerable?"

"... Yessir," comes a unified mumble from the occupants of the cell. With things a little more straightened out, the King turns his attention first and foremost to his daughter. He withdraws from an inside pocked a folded piece of paper, soft and faded from being read over many times.

"Are these words you left us true, child?" he inquires levelly. "Did you run away from home?" Through a wince, Rapunzel nods.

"I'm so sorry," she murmurs. "I just wanted to find Eugene, I was so worried... and... and I-"

"Shh," he hushes, but then the King is quiet for a moment, a long thoughtful breath emptying his chest. "We thought that there could be no greater pain than losing our child," he begins, turning to his wife and reaching for her, closing thick fingers around her arm as she lays her palm on top comfortingly. "This was not so," he continues. "To lose you again was worse."

Rapunzel looks as though she may cry, and Eugene's frustration is intolerable, he can't stand to see her unhappy, but he cannot defy the King, or his reasons. He knows how he would take it in their situation, and the opposing forces feel like they could pull him apart.

"Father, I... I'll never..." Rapunzel starts in a small, crushed voice; a voice of defeat and concession. Dread drops in Eugene's stomach, because he _cannot _see her broken, not like she almost was by Gothel. Before he is able to speak, though, the King interrupts.

"Stop, and listen well," he cuts in, no register of anger in his voice, but a deep and powerful authority. "If you promise to us that you will never run away again," he begins, and Eugene's throat tightens more, the words frighteningly reminiscent of ones spoken before, but the King continues unhesitatingly. "If you will promise this, in return, you have our consent to leave the castle whenever you wish."

"R-really?" Rapunzel says disbelievingly, and relief washes through Eugene. "You really mean... whenever I want? As many times as I want?"

"Only let us know that you plan to go," he replies. The King steps forwards and rests a finger under his daughter's chin through the bars, tilting her head up to look at him. "Will you promise?" Rapunzel squeezes her eyes shut and nods silently, two small words passing from her lips.

"_I promise," _she murmurs, and the deed is set.

"Good," the King replies. "Then I promise too." He leans forwards and presses a kiss against her forehead, then turns to his wife and nods. "Now, Eugene," he suddenly announces. "It is quite the fuss you've caused for us of recent."

"Uhh, I can explain?" he says weakly, more out of instinct than anything else. "Well... kinda."

"I would appreciate it," the King carries on oblivious to anything he's said, "if you didn't worry my daughter and give her cause to run away from home. You must be aware she would follow you to the ends of the world, so I would take that fact into consideration next time you depart on an adventure." Eugene turns to look at Rapunzel, who shrugs and bobs her head in confirmation.

"Uh, yes sir," he says awkwardly. "I'll... try?"

"See to it that you do," the King returns, and then without further questioning – much to Eugene and Rapunzel's surprise – he turns his attentions onto Francis. "Now, young man," he starts austerely. "I expect you have much to tell me." Francis sighs and looks down to the floor.

"I do, Your Highness," he starts humbly.

"First things first, I would beg your name."

"Well, my name is Francis..." the boy says quietly, "but, you may know me as... Flynn Rider."

"No!" Eugene cuts in, but the King bolts him with a stern look that silences him, Eugene tenses against the cell bars, his knuckles blanching and his teeth ground hard together. Rapunzel's hand closes around his wrist, and then she pushes up on her toes, bringing her mouth to his ear.

"It'll be okay," she whispers. "Please, Eugene. Just trust them." He knows that he has little other option, and reluctantly backs away from the front of the cell.

As Eugene slumps to the floor and buries his face in his hands, Francis tells the story of how he ran away from his own home to take up the name of Flynn Rider, how he set out to revive the criminal legend. He explains that he never meant to hurt anyone, that he was caught trying to escape by the Judge and panicked, that he is sorry for causing him harm. His narrative runs in circles, going over how wrong he had been about Eugene, about Rapunzel, and he apologises more time than anyone cares to count.

"Enough," the King says at last. "I think that we have heard all we need to." He sighs and crosses his arms, and then from his robe pulls out a set of keys. "Eugene, Rapunzel, you may come out," he announces; Rapunzel gets up ready to leave, but Eugene doesn't move, even though she tugs on his arm, a little confused.

"What about Francis?" the once-thief asks without moving, no waver to his voice.

"Eugene, it's fine-" Francis begins, but he won't budge.

"What will happen to him?" he insists again, and the King meets Eugene's eyes; he marvels for a moment that this man _ever_ managed to hold up an appearance of being unattached, uncaring, or even remotely like the Flynn Rider his Guards told him about. There was nothing Eugene Fitzherbert wouldn't do for the people he cared about, and he was completely incapable of hiding it – sometimes in spite of his best efforts.

"He must remain here, for now," the King explains calmly. "I intend to invite Judge Gable to face his true attacker. I am sure he would also like to hear your story," he tells Francis directly, and the boy's face pales. "The Judge is a fair and understanding man," he reassures the frightened prisoner. "I will leave it to him to decide what shall be done."

"What? That's outrageous!" Eugene interjects, jumping to his feet and slamming up to the bars. "You're going to let the guy he beat up decide his punishment? That's- that's!"

"Control your temper, Eugene," the King says sternly, no trace of anger in his voice; Eugene cowers all the same, realising that he has just shouted at his own monarch.

"It's okay, Eugene," Francis says firmly, coming up beside his friend-come-family. "You don't need to protect me this time. It was my mistake, I'll pay for it."

"But I-" Eugene starts to protest, but Francis shakes his head and Eugene senses that he can't be argued with; he knows a thing or two about stubborn streaks.

"He'll be fine," Rapunzel assures Eugene quietly. "Right... dad?" The King nods.

"The Judge is a wise and fair man," he remarks. "But, if it will lend comfort, I assure you that if he comes over with a sudden, uncharacteristic streak of bloodlust, I will personally intervene." While Eugene doesn't appreciate the joking tone of the King's suggestion, he can accept the deal at least.

"Okay," he sighs reluctantly, and the King passes the keys to his wife, who meets them at the cell door and lets Eugene and her daughter through, enfolding the latter in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, mom," Rapunzel mumbles into her mother's shoulder, wrapped up tightly and trying not to tear up too much. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh," the Queen coos, and over Rapunzel's back meets Eugene's eyes. "Thank you," she says quietly, "for keeping her safe."

"I, uh... she doesn't really," he starts muttering, but then heaves yet another sigh. "No problem." He could point out Rapunzel keeps _him _safe just as many times as he does her, but the morning has been eventful enough, so long explanations can wait for another time. He glances back to Francis, who is leaning against the back wall of his now lonely cell; the boy still can't hide his emotions, because his worry rings clear as a bell.

"Hey," Eugene starts, and he looks up. "I'll stay, if you want." Francis waves a hand dismissively.

"I'm twenty, Eugene, not twelve," he murmurs. "I'll manage. But... just tell Auntie. She'll probably go worrying when I don't come back."

"Worrying? _Her?_" he mocks.

"Oh, she worries all right," Francis replies. "She just hides it well." It occurs to Eugene that Francis has had twice the time with Aya as he has, and must know her that much better. "Just tell her, okay?"

"Sure, you got it," he answers. "I'll come back, too. Soon as I can." Francis nods and attempts to smile, but it's a weak attempt; Eugene wishes there were something more he could do to help him, but short of reverting to criminal enterprises – which isn't exactly a direction he's planning on taking his life in – there's little he _can _do. He feels helpless and useless, and Rapunzel must notice because her hands close around one of his.

"Eugene," she pleads. "It _will _be okay, I promise." He turns to her, letting himself be swallowed by her eyes for a moment, then dropping his gaze.

"I can't help it," he murmurs. "My experience with the law hasn't been all good."

"Well, it'll be different this time," she insists, and starts to walk him towards the door. It's late in the day, so the Judge will not visit until tomorrow, leaving a whole unsettling night to waste before Eugene can feel fully at ease. With one last look back to Francis – who rolls his eyes and actually shoos Eugene onwards, beginning to be embarrassed – Eugene relents at last, and lets himself be led out of the prison.

However, no sooner has he set a foot across the threshold, when a metallic clattering grates in his ears and a shiny, moustached figure looms around the corner.

"Your Majesty!" the Captain of the Guard bellows at full volume. "FLYNN RIDER IS ESCAPING!" Both Rapunzel and Eugene turn, expecting with horrified faces to see Francis making a run for it, but the Captain frantically pushes Rapunzel away from Eugene and then punches him in the face.

"Ow!" Eugene squawks, slamming into the wall and clutching his jaw. He's just considering whether to dodge the Captain's continuing attacks or retaliate, when Rapunzel suddenly leaps onto his back from behind, twisting her arms and legs around him like a human strait-jacket.

"Stop that!" she shrieks, pummelling her fists furiously against his helmet, and the Captain stumbles off-balance. "Eugene is innocent!" The Captain staggers, almost falling over with her still clinging to him, so Eugene grabs the man, ostensibly trying to help; however, the Captain obviously takes this gesture as an attack, and things only get worse from there.

By the time the King and Queen have heard the racket and raced back to the scene of the fight, Eugene has managed to wrap his arms around Rapunzel's waist and pull her off the Captain, though her legs still flail as she kicks crossly.

"He was- he was! He was!" she babbles furiously. "He! – Eugene! Put me _down_!"

"Flynn Rider, Your Highness!" the Captain stutters with a comparable anger. The King and Queen look around.

"Where?" the King asks, and the Captain slowly turns to Eugene, who offers him a smug grin, still gripping a now-slack princess.

"I thought..." he breathes, and forgets to close his jaw, which hangs open flapping pointlessly.

"While your enthusiasm for the purposes of justice is impressive," remarks the King dryly. "I would think that you ought reconsider the 'fight first, ask questions later' method of inquiry, Captain."

"I... I... my apologies, Your Highness."

"Is it _me_ you should be apologising to?" the King points out, and the Captain does nothing short of glare at Eugene.

"But Rid- _Fitzherbert_," he forces. "This man broke into my home, my wife and I saw him there with our own eyes!"

"Ah yes, I recall. You are clearly owed an explanation," the King muses, and steps away from the Queen, parting with a thoughtful brush of her shoulder. "Would you go with Eugene and Rapunzel, dear?" he asks. "I shall sit and straighten things out with Reginald." The Queen nods, and extends a hand to Rapunzel, who in turn looks at Eugene – but he is instead fixated intensely on the Captain.

"...Reginald?" he echoes with a Flynn Rider-worthy smirk. "_Reginald?_"

"Shut up_," _the Captain retaliates, but he fails to hide his embarrassment as well as he would like to. "And you're hardly one to talk – _Eugene."_ Before accompanying Rapunzel and the Queen to the residential wing of the palace for a rest and well-deserved wash – he probably smells worrying like the colour _brown_ right now – Eugene strolls up to the Captain and extends an open palm.

"Pot, nice to meet you," he lilts with a sly grin. "I'm kettle."

"This isn't funny, Rider," the Captain bites, and shoots a glance at the King, urging him to break up the situation. Unfortunately the smile on the monarch's face seems to betray he is actually enjoying it.

"You know, Reggie, I feel we may be able to bond over this," Eugene continues. "Share our burdens, as two awkwardly-named men in a world of..."

"Rider!"

"-Fitzherbert, actually," he corrects infuriatingly.

"Fiztrider... I mean, -_whatever, _look, if you _ever _refer to me as 'Reggie' again I swear on my honour as a guard I will hang you from the castle walls."

"Hey now!" Eugene rushes, putting up his hands in innocent play, pleased to catch Rapunzel giggling out of the corner of his eye. "I didn't realise you were so touchy about it, Reg... I mean," he is about to carry on, until Rapunzel cannot repress a burst of laughter any longer and lets out a hysterical shriek, then claps her hands guiltily over her own mouth. Eugene is sniggering when he feels a hand drop softly on his shoulder, and turns to find the Queen's eyes on him.

"Eugene," she says seriously, "leave the poor man be."

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><p>Poor Reginald. I mean the Captain. I mean Reginald. Because that is clearly his name.<p>

THIS FIC IS LIKE ALMOST OVER NEARLY NOW. Omgeeeeee!


	17. The Conclusion

This may be the last chapter for a while, as the last chap/epilogue of sorts isn't really written yet. This is basically the conclusion of the story, so I guess I'll take this time to say thank you to all the wonderful readers who have followed this story and supported me in any way, whether by leaving reviews, favourites, alerts or just reading. It's the sense of community that makes fanfiction a very special thing, and without being overly sentimental I want to get across how much it really means to me as a writer that other people read and enjoy my stories. You're all rockstars =D

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

_~17~_

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><p>After a wash, shave, and discovering he has a face – <em>a very nice face, might he add<em> – underneath all the stubble, Eugene feels very much more like a person again. He hasn't any clean clothes to change into, but the guest room he's made use of is stocked with a rather comfortable bathrobe, and he's sure he can pull the look off until he gets home.

He knows better than to think he can leave without saying goodbye to Rapunzel, so sets off in search of her, wandering semi-aimlessly along corridors in a direction he feels like should be the right one. He eventually begins to cover familiar ground, and soon finds her emerging from her own room.

"Eugene!" she squeaks excitedly, running over to envelop him in a hug, sprinkling him with water from her still-drying hair. She reaches for his face, her fingertips trailing all the way down his chin. "You shaved!"

"It's been known to happen," he replies, rather enjoying the renewed bout admiration. From Rapunzel's shoulder, unsuccessfully attempting to dodge drips of water left, right and centre, Eugene spots Pascal. "Oh, and look who's back," he remarks, waggling a finger at the chameleon.

"He was waiting for me in my room," she explains. "He's been spying on the guards for us."

"He has?" Eugene questions scathingly, a sarcastic humour to his voice. "Then what happened to any kind of _warning_ before the Captain gave me a knuckle sandwich, eh?" His accusation turns the lizard a bashful shade of pink, but Eugene chuckles and tickles a finger under Pascal's chin. "No hard feelings," he tells the lizard. "_Reginald _punches like a girl anyway. No offense," he adds with a flash of a grin at Rapunzel, who only rolls her eyes. It's after her hands fall from their examination of Eugene's face, to rest over his collarbone, that she takes notice of the change to his attire.

"Um, Eugene," she starts hesitantly, "... what are you wearing?"

"What, this?" he scoffs suavely. "Just a little something I threw on, I'm trying out a new look." Rapunzel holds his gaze with a great deal of uncertainty, and then raises a hand to press against his forehead, as if to check for a fever. "I'm joking!" he cuts in, swatting her away. "All my clothes are filthy," he explains with a great deal less bravado. "I'm just going to wear this home until I can change." It was pushing towards evening anyway, so he'd probably go home for the night – while he'd like to return and see Francis, he gets the impression the boy would tell him to shove off and leave him alone. He

Eugene realises he can't make up years of absence by being around _always, so_ for now there isn't much he can do. Rapunzel takes the information in, and then for an undiscernable reason her cheeks suddenly flush bright red.

"Wait, Eugene," she says shyly, removing her hands from his chest where they were quite happily resting. "Are you... I mean... you're... _naked _under there?"

"Wha-? No!" he rushes, and pulls back enough of the robe to demonstrate he's still clothed from the waist; however, Rapunzel's eyes never go any lower than his torso.

"Oh," she murmurs, eyes practically burning a hole through his coincidentally-bare chest. "Of course."

"Hey, my face is up here," he teases, and she only blushes harder. He laughs hard, closing the robe again lest anyone walk past and discover him casually flashing the princess, and then ruffles her hair. "So where are the-" he begins.

"Momanddad saidthey'dbe inthefamilyroom," Rapunzel chatters awkwardly, then hears herself and her eyes widen. She pushes her hands against her cheeks as if she can force the colour out of them that way, but Eugene putting an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead doesn't help _at all._

"You're too cute sometimes," he chuckles. "Come on, let's get you to dear mum and dad." He's sure the King and Queen would like some quality time with their re-returned daughter.

"Will you come too?" she asks hopefully, but he shakes his head.

"I'll take a rain check," he declines politely – as much as he loves her, he can't monopolise all of her time. "I'm gonna head home, I've got a lot of things to think about."

"Oh," she replies, a little concerned, but not grief-stricken; she understands that her world isn't going to stop when he's not there, that even if they part they're still _together_. "All right. Will you be back tomorrow?"

"You betcha I will," he replies warmly; no judge of any standing is going to be deciding punishments for Francis without _his_ being present. "Okay, I'll see you soon," he adds finally, and when Rapunzel steps forwards, rising on the balls of her feet and slipping her arms around his neck, he realises he isn't going to get away without one hell of a goodbye kiss. While he loves her always-growing confidence, it is a severe test of his self-restraint, and the past few days feel like they've pulled them even closer together.

His hands join around her back, pulling her against him as he tilts his head and jumps straight in, tasting her mouth, sharp and tangy with whatever she's brushed her teeth with. As usual, he pulls away first – before he loses all control over his mind and body, and acidentally-on-purpose elopes with her. Holding her far away enough not to kiss her again, but close enough to still feel her breath on his lips, he rests his forehead against hers.

"I don't know how you do it," he murmurs quietly, wringing out their last moment for everything he can get.

"Do what?" she replies, idly picking threads from his robe, completely relaxed in his arms.

"Uh... no, it sounds stupid," he evades, and the delicate fingertips skittering across his chest turn violent, pinching him. "Ow," he yelps "That was uncalled for!"

"What is it?" she insists; Eugene steps back a little further and tweaks her nose.

"Just... that.. I love you," he answers at last. "That's all you need to know." What he'd like to say was that no matter how much he thinks he loves her, she always finds some way to make it _more _–even when he doesn't believe it to be possible. He knows that the capacity to love is meant to be endless, but he's crossed what he thought to be his limits so many times he ought to learn line dancing for the next time he skips across the boundaries.

"Oh," she meeps. "Well, I love you too." She states it uneventfully, like remarking upon the weather or what colour her dress is. For her it is ordinary, she tells most things that she loves them freely, including spiders and her pudding at meal times, but that doesn't mean he doubts her sincerity; she's shown him more with actions than she could ever express with words.

"Mhm," he murmurs, resting a hand under her jaw and dotting his lips over hers in a quick, chaste kiss. "You'd better go," he warns. They have to call it quits _sometime._

"Okay, okay, I'm going," she insists, yet doesn't move.

"Well?" he prompts.

"Well what?" she retorts. "You go first."

"What? No, you go-" he starts, and then realises how silly their conversation is; were Flynn Rider real, he would be trying to knock Eugene out with a frying pan for desecrating his image. "We'll both go," he amends, "at the same time."

"Right. On the count of three," she prepares, and then counts them off; when she hits zero, Rapunzel leaps back dramatically, throwing up her arms, and Eugene can't help bursting out in laughter again.

"You're one of a kind, princess," he chuckles as the hysteria fades, and reaches out to ruffle a hand through her hair one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," she says sweetly, and presses her palm to her mouth, blowing him a kiss. Eugene looks around cautiously, making sure no one is watching, and then mimes catching it.

While he does get a few strange looks on the way home, he decides to himself that's just because of his chiselled good looks and daring style – that bathrobes are going to be the next big trend in no time. However, when he arrives home, he remembers the state his rooms were left in, and although he did have the thought to make sure the lock was repaired, there is still a great ugly scrawl over his wall, courtesy of Francis. He sighs, as there's nothing he can do about it tonight, and is forced to attempt sleep with the word _traitor_ staring down over him.

Needless to say, he wakes wracked with guilt, half-awake nightmares of horrifying sentences and Francis's doom, tormenting him from bed at an unsociably early hour. He puts on his first fresh set of clothes in about a week, and _would_ make a beeline straight for the palace, if he didn't realise that no one else will be awake, and it only spells hours of waiting around on the edge of his seat. So he makes for the Orphanage instead, to inform Aunt Aya of the developments. She takes the news remarkably well and gives him breakfast – or what's left of it, then moans at him for the best part of an hour about various troubles, from difficult children to money worries.

Eugene leaves a _little_ relieved to have his ear back, and by which time it's reached a reasonable hour to show his face at the castle. He strolls in, nodding to the passing guards smugly, basking in the glow of their resentment – their charges against him all disproven, his place in the palace still secure. When he arrives at the cells, expecting to see no one, or perhaps the odd guard, he discovers Rapunzel outside, bunched up in a huddle on the floor, pulling nervously on the lowest strands of her hair, completely alone.

"Hey," he greets worrisomely. "Are they in there already?" She shakes her head. "Then why are you-"

"Waiting," she finishes quietly. "I'm just waiting." She holds her hands over her feet, wrapping round her toes to keep them warm – perhaps they will be able to persuade her into shoes when the winter really sets in, starting with slippers and working up.

"For how long?" he questions; he knows how early she rises, and it pains him to think of her curled up motionless against a wall for hours, but she just shrugs.

"Dunno," she murmurs. "The door's locked, so I can't get in." Eugene resists the urge to sigh, and offers her a hand to stand up; she looks helpless, and he hates it – she should be happy, energetic, bursting with a contagious curiosity and joy. Rapunzel lets him help her to her feet, and only realises how cold she's gotten when she feels how warm he is. He notices too, and clasps both her hands together, rubbing them roughly between his, then bringing them to his mouth to blow on.

"Any colder and we'd have to thaw you out," he jokes, but he's worried too, and can't quite make the line fly. She gives him a doe-eyed look, saying nothing, but he's fairly sure he knows what she wants. Eugene dips in and gives her a quick peck, but leaves it at that – he isn't exactly in the mood to get hot and heavy, which she hopefully understands.

They wait together, not exchanging many words, keeping a safe distance in expectation of the King, Captain and an unknown Judge to appear at any moment. He's not sure if it's because of Francis, or that he's had a fair share of alone-time with Rapunzel in the past few days, but Eugene feels calmer in her presence, less like he wants to grab her every other minute, crush her against him to remind himself she it isn't a dream or joke, a fevered-hallucination as he lies bleeding out on a tower floor.

Soon voices and footsteps announce the arrival of the King and a heavy-set man, walking heavily on a cane, his face bruised and yellowing. Eugene hears Rapunzel gasp next to him, shocked with the evidence of Francis's handiwork, and even he's taken aback, ashamed to have had any part to play in such violence.

"Ah, you pre-empt our arrival, I see," the King remarks in a low, even voice. "Judge Gabel – I present my daughter, and her... I mean, and Eugene Fitzherbert," he decides upon uncertainly. The Judge pulls a long face and peers at Eugene quizzically.

"Who is he?" he questions, and Eugene breathes a slight sigh of relief – final proof of his innocence, at last.

"He's-" the King and Rapunzel both start.

"I'm a friend to Francis," he butts in before either can go any further. "Well, more than a friend, I guess," he amends. "You could kinda, uh..."

"You are his guardian?" the Judge suggests.

"Well not exact... I mean, in a way you could... let's say yes," he concludes awkwardly.

"Very good," the Judge declares. "I was hoping to find you here, I'd like your approval on what I decide is to become of this lad."

"Francis," Eugene corrects bitterly. "His name is Francis."

"I've no doubt it is," the man replies brightly, but soon his chest wheezes, betraying his forceful front, and he leans on his stick. "My doctor advises me to make this visit short," he breaths slowly. "So we best get it on with." He holds out an arm to lead the way in, and suddenly Rapunzel is beside it.

"Mr. Judge sir!" she chirps. "Would it be all right if I came along too?"

"Princess?" he queries bluntly. "This seems to be quite the spectacle we're running here." The judge looks across to the King, who nods his consent – he has already learned that it is nearly impossible to keep his daughter from what she wants, so it's best to grant her requests and save himself the trouble. "Oh all right," the judge coughs. "The more the merrier, I suppose."

Although Eugene goes in with a sour demeanour, more than ready to fight over whatever horrible punishment the Judge can concoct to wreak vengeance on Francis, he simply takes a chair and speaks to the boy for a good long while. They talk of the crime, as expected, but also of what led up to it and what occurred after – discussing in not insignificant detail Eugene and Rapunzel's involvement too – and then of things that seem unrelated. The orphanage, where Francis works, what his interests are. Rapunzel is practically falling asleep on Eugene's shoulder by the time the King coughs loudly and nudges the Judge into drawing his interview to a close, whereupon the man announces his decision.

"Francis McCormick, for the wrongs you have committed," he begins in a clear, even tone, "I would compel you to offer reparation to those you harmed – namely, myself. As you have no wealth to speak of, and I no desire for it, I will instead take my dues in form of your time and labour."

"Huh? So you want me to-" Francis interjects uncertainly.

"Work for me, essentially," the Judge finishes. "If you are pennant for your crimes, I see no need to separate you from a society you are no longer a threat to, and I will need help on my estate until my health has improved again. It seems only fair the one to cause the ill should aid in the mending."

"Is that... all?" asks the boy disbelievingly.

"All?" the Judge laughs. "You clearly have no concept of what it takes to run an estate and legal office, my boy. In a month you will be begging me for the comfort and calm of a prison cell." He turns to Eugene, who has perked up as the final decision was announced, but was otherwise far more engaged in toying with Rapunzel's hair and resisting any urges to kiss her in front of her father. "I trust this is all right with you, Mister Fitzherbert?"

"Well... it sounds okay to me," he answers; for all he was ready to fight, the Judge genuinely seems to have been fair and understanding. To study under one of the most respected judges in the Kingdom could be considered an opportunity, not a punishment.

"I would stipulate, however," Gable adds seriously, "one restriction." Eugene tenses, feeling the catch like a fish-hook – he knew it sounded too good to be true. "A parole keeper," is all the Judge says, "to ensure you keep to your word to make good. Mister Fitzherbert? Would it be too bold to place such a task upon you?"

"Uh...what," he clips in uneloquent surprise. "You mean, as in seriously mean... _me_?" he queries, checking that the judge has just asked an ex-famous-thief to be parole for a recent copy-cat.

"I cannot think of another party more suitable," he remarks, and then without ceremony, the King jangles a key into the lock and sets Francis free. "I expect to see you at my door at dawn tomorrow," the Judge tells Francis sternly. "You recall where it is?" Francis flushes in embarrassment and nods.

"Yes, sir," Francis replies.

"Francis," the King adds gently, "you must understand that if the terms of this arrangement are broken, a more serious sentence will be made?"

"I understand, Your Highness," Francis answers. "I'll work hard, I promise. And... thank you, all of you," he finishes, turning around the room to Eugene and Rapunzel.

"For what?" Rapunzel pipes up suddenly, startling Eugene, whose knee she very-almost perches on.

"For everything," Francis replies bashfully. "For helping... for understanding... for... for, just for _caring_," he gushes, and Eugene shuffles Rapunzel away from him to get up, setting a hand on Francis's shoulder. There are so many things he wants to say; that it's nothing, that he swore he'd look out for Francis and he always will, that they're family, and that's what family _do _– that he'll do everything he can to make things right, that he loves him.

But somehow the words don't come out; however, Francis looks up at him with bright green eyes – not too dissimilar from Rapunzel's – and Eugene gets the impression he understands.

"So," the King chimes in brightly. "Breakfast?"

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><p><em>End... ish.<em>

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><p>So that's the end of sorts. I hope it isn't too sudden or leave too much unresolved for people. It's a bit of a silly end but it seems hard to draw it off anywhere, plus there will still be an epilogue type thing to tie off the whole package with a proper sense of finale.<p>

Thanks again to everyone who has read and stuck with this story, if you feel like leaving a review I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts on how things have played out. A lot of people have questioned what would happen to Francis, so I wonder how many people guessed a resolution like this.

Thanks!


	18. The End

Of all the love in the world there is not even nearly enough to equal the love that I have for the BBC's Sherlock right now. I want to cry with how much I love it, if that makes any sense. But also Tangled! I figured that I better finish this story. Hurpadurp.

I thought it'd be hard to write this epilogue, but turns out it wasn't because I'm a huge sucker for happy ending and OH GOD ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD. It's clearly not Disney if your teeth don't cave in afterwards.

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><p><em>Flynn Wanted<em>

~18~

_Epilogue_

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><p>"And then <em>I <em>said, _'hayfever?' _and the guard turns to me, Flynn Rider, hanging in the middle of the crown room, and he _nods!"_ narrated Eugene with no small amount of bravado.

"He didn't realise?" chorus a number of eager voices.

"Of course he didn't," Eugene scoffs. "Well, by the time he _did _realise, I was already up on the roof making my escape."

"How did you get back up so fast?" a particularly intuitive child asks. "Did you have someone to help you?"

"No," he shoots. "The great Flynn Rider needs no... see, I was... I... well I... I climbed up, of course," is the swift and guilty reply. "Anyway, I've got the tiara, and I'm making my-"

"_Eugene!" _comes a sharp, punishing shriek from across the room, and Eugene jumps almost out of his skin. When he sets eyes on the disarmingly small and sweet-looking princess giving him evil eyes, he lets out a sigh.

"I wish Aya hadn't taught you how to do that," he groans to himself. "What?"

"You can't tell them _that _story!" she scolds. "It sets a bad example."

"What? That's not... well how about this," he suggests, turning to the captive audience. "Make sure you do as I do, kids, and not as I said I did. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Flynn," comes the chorus of replies. He gives all of the children a stern look, winks and then tips his head towards Rapunzel. "Yes, _Eugene_," they correct themselves, but Rapunzel doesn't seem any more impressed. However, a voice calls for her from the kitchen and she disappears back inside.

"Well, how about I tell you the story of how I found the Lost Princess?" Eugene suggests anew, but his small audience seem unimpressed.

"Everyone knows that story!" one particularly outspoken child accuses.

"Oh, but not everyone knows the _real_ story," Eugene tells the boy, and he can see that he's hooked them. "I was fleeing the Kingdom Guard," he begins to tell the tale, "and I came upon a tower hidden away in the forest. Climbing it with my bare hands, I sought refuge in the..."

"Mr. Rider, what does 'saught refuse' mean?" one of the younger children questions.

"It means hiding," he explains, then continues on with his story. "I was going to hide in the tower, but when I climbed in the top window, I beheld a beautiful girl, staring at me – and who can blame her?" Some of the girls start to giggle and fidget. "Well, when I approached, she offered me her hand in greeting, then asked for my name, and how I came to find her."

"So what did you say?" one of the giggling girls asks while turning distinctly pink; Eugene fixes her with his best smoulder.

"_I know not who you are_, no_r how I came to be here... but can I just say.._." he purrs, and then there comes a loud clang of sturdy metal against a thick wooden doorframe. Eugene winces instinctively.

"That isn't what happened at _all_," Rapunzel cuts in, brandishing in her hand a dented cast-iron pan.

"It's only a story," he argues defiantly, "I never claimed that I was giving a fully accurate account of events."

"Yes you did, Fl... Eugene," one of the children contributes, and Eugene turns to make a frantic shushing motion at him.

"All right, children," Rapunzel announces, spinning the pan deftly in her hand and strolling over to Eugene. "Let me tell you the _real-_real story." She forces Eugene to shuffle up on his seat and then squeezes herself in next to him. "There once was a girl who lived in just one room all her life, never going outside, never leaving her home."

"Never?" a small voice asks.

"Never," she reasserts. "But the girl was not unhappy, she had a friend and a mother and lots of wonderful hobbies to keep her busy." As she speaks, she feels Eugene's presence next to her stiffen, his arm finding its way around her, to sit curled on her waist; she knows he hates to think of her being happy in her prison, but she never knew it that way, and to deny that she _was _happy would be worse than to convince herself she was sad. "She had one dream though, to go outside and see the floating lanterns that were released on her birthday every year. But her mother said she could not go outside, so she stayed."

"Until..." Eugene attempts to interrupt, and Rapunzel slaps him on the knee.

"I'm telling the story, Eugene," she scolds. "Until one day a mysterious stranger climbed in through her window. A handsome and strong man, the first she had ever seen..." She practically feels Eugene's ego inflating next to her.

"What did she say to him?" a girl asks bashfully.

"She didn't say anything," Rapunzel answers, "she did something instead. She hit him in the head with a frying pan." Eugene's face has disappeared into his hands, and the children start to fall about laughing.

"_Why me..."_ she can hear Eugene moaning through his palms.

"Why did you do that?" someone shrieks.

"Well, the girl was scared, she had never met a man before, she thought he might be dangerous," Rapunzel admits guilelessly. "But she realised that the man had been outside, and maybe he could help her achieve her dream. So she asked him," she says, and catches Eugene in the corner of her eye, peeking through his fingers at her.

"And what did he say?" the ever-curious audience inquires, and Rapunzel turns to Eugene, allowing him to answer.

"He said yes," he replies softly, and squeezes Rapunzel's hand tightly in his. Some of the children make 'aaw' sounds, but an equal amount snigger.

"But it wasn't as easy as that," Rapunzel continues. "The girl and the mysterious man left the tower, but it would take a long time and a lot of adventure before they could achieve their dreams."

"Both of them?" a bright child asks. "I thought it was the girl who had a dream."

"Everyone has a dream," Rapunzel replies sweetly, looking the young child in the eyes and asking, "Don't you?" They nod behind a blush, and Rapuznel is about to continue when the sound of the front door being shoved open and roughly closed rattles the room, and a singular small voice screams a name.

"FRANCIS!" the cry rings, and all of the children scramble to their feet and stampede in the direction of the hall. No fewer than three of them manage to secure themselves on some part of his body by the time he struggles inside and promptly collapses face-down on a sofa.

"Hard day?" Eugene remarks, while the kids pull at Francis's clothes and demand games, stories and other entertainments.

"Mnnnnmhm mmn," comes a muffled groan, and Rapunzel gets up to start shooing children away from him.

"He's tired, let him rest," she clucks in a way worryingly reminiscent of Aunt Aya. "He can play later."

"No he can't," Francis moans into the sofa pillows. "I'm going to prison instead." A few children hear him and start to wail, and Rapunzel has the smallest boy in her arms before he can even finish his first shriek.

"Hush, he doesn't mean it," she coos. "Don't upset them," she scolds again, then sends a pleading look towards Eugene, who sighs and gets up; his job as parole officer has not been entirely in name. He grabs Francis by the scruff of his coat and pulls him upright, though he slumps against the arm of the sofa immediately.

"Gabel giving you a hard time?" he asks, and the boy shrugs. "Kids, go play with Rapunzel outside for a while," he suggests, and a tone in his voice conveys that he is to be taken seriously, so everyone files out of the room.

"Prison won't be so bad," Francis laments softly. "Nice and quiet, at least. No one will try to stab me with a quill."

"I wouldn't count on that," Eugene remarks dryly, "and he tried to _stab _you?"

"Not him, someone else. A client. She said I was writing too slowly." Francis lifts an ink-spattered hand and shows Eugene a small red puncture mark. "I've been taking dictation all day," he explains, trying to flex his claw-like fingers and wincing. "Gabel he... he expects so much of me. It never stops. _Never._"

"He's pushing you," Eugene replies. "He knows you can handle it. You've learned a lot already." Francis was improving almost daily; Judge Gabel worked him long and hard – at first there was a clear aspect of retribution for Francis's actions, but the Judge was perfectly healthy now, and showed no signs whatsoever of relinquishing Francis's employment. However, the boy's transformation had been massive, by the time his service was finished, he'd be able to work in any lawyer's or judge's office he wanted. He'd been given a chance, not that he always appreciated it at the harder times.

"I know but he... he expects so _much _of me," Francis says in an exhausted, defeated voice. "Whenever I feel like I get the hang of something, he gives me something else a hundred times harder to do. And he..." Francis cuts off suddenly, and Eugene lifts an eyebrow.

"What?" he demands.

"Today... Gabel said... said he wanted to put me in for an exam. A legal one."

"A test?" questions Eugene, wondering if this is the root of the great display of exhaustion, as normally he was a lot brighter when he arrived home, even if he was just as tired.

"It'll... if I pass, it's the first step," Francis explains cryptically, and balls his hands up tight.

"First step?"

"The first step to becoming a lawyer," he mumbles, and Eugene's mouth falls open in an unaired 'oh' sound. "It still... there's still lots of other things, and I probably won't even pass, but if I... I mean. It'd..." Eugene waits for him to find the words. "Could I really do it?"

"What? Become a lawyer?" Eugene says. "Why shouldn't you?"

"Because I'm... I mean I've been – my crimes, I could have gone to prison... I'm just a nobody without any parents and no education. I'm only working for the Judge because it's my sentence for attacking him, he barely pays me anything. And... the lawyers I see are all guys in suits and robes, they all went to the Royal college, they have backgrounds and _breeding_. They look down on me – and why shouldn't they? I'm just an aide, I'm just a..."

"Slow down," Eugene interjects, and taps a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Do you want to know about not thinking you're good enough?" He stuffs a hand instinctively into his pocket and gropes instinctively for a tightly-wrapped bundle. "I used to... I _was_ almost hung, I grew up in this hole too, thinking I had nobody and would never be anybody... and yet I," he breaks off, running a hand through his hair, not entirely believing he's going to say it, "and I want to marry her," he finishes. Francis looks at him quizzically, so he forces himself to repeat it.

"I want to marry Rapunzel. I want to ask her to be my wife and for her to say yes," he says in an almost shell-shocked tone. "And I don't mean in general, as a principle in the future sort of thing. I mean now, _soon_... and I even... I bought a ring." The bundle in his pocket feels like it burns in his hand. He's been carrying it for a while, waiting for the right moment, fighting his own voice of reason-come-pessimism.

"I don't get it," Francis says bluntly. "Why is that at _all_ like what I've said? You love her, she loves you, everyone's already assumed that you're going to-"

"Think about it, Francis," Eugene interrupts. "She's a princess. An actual royal-blooded _princess_, she is meant to take over rule of the Kingdom after her parents. One day she's going to be _Queen,_ and I want to marry her... so that means I... I'd be King." He looks dead at Francis and can see the implications sinking in. "You think you're not good enough? I can barely wrap my head around the idea of being good enough for _her_, let alone to be... you know," he trails off lamely.

"Okay... fair enough," Francis concedes, "so we're both screwed. What's your point?"

"My point is that in spite of all that, I'm still going to do it," he explains bluntly. "I'm still going to ask her, because I want to more than anything else – it's the same for you, if you want to try and become a lawyer, you have to forget about everything else and go for it."

"But... what if I can't?" he asks.

"If you want to make an excuse it's easy enough," he retorts. "What if Rapunzel says no? Or someone stops us? Or it doesn't work out... you just have to have faith."

"I... I... okay," he relents. "You're right. I'm gonna try. I _want_ to try."

"Up and at'em, champ," Eugene says with a grin, and pats him on the shoulder again. "Now, if you tell a living soul about Rapunzel or the ring, I will personally kill you."

"Right," Francis confirms, "understood." With eerie timing, Aunt Aya bustles into the room and sets a cup of tea in Francis's hand.

"Aya?" Eugene accuses suspiciously. "How long have you been out there? What did you hear?" he adds with more impatience.

"Nothing that I didn't know already, pets," she answers casually; she doesn't need to eavesdrop to know exactly what's going on in their lives. "I will tell Rapunzel and the children that they can come back in now, shall I? It looks like it may rain and no one wants a dozen wet monsters running wild in the house."

"I should probably see Rapunzel back," Eugene remarks. "I'm fairly sure she dropped out of a royal function to come here this afternoon." The King and Queen have held good on their word to allow Rapunzel her freedom. Though they might attempt to persuade her otherwise, if she tells them she wants to go, they do not object to or stop her leaving. Eugene no longer worries about her freedom as much as he used to – though he's not sure if that's because of his own change in character, rather than anything else.

"I have _unending_ sympathy for her parents," Aya comments dryly. "Get her back before the rain, I doubt they want a wet princess running wild around their home either. Rapunzel! Children!" Aya caws out of a window into the garden. "Time to come inside!"

Slowly the children filter into the room, followed by Rapunzel last, who appears to have been educating the children in garden-cookery, judging by the talk of mud-pies and the dirt spread about her person

"Oh jeesh," Eugene murmurs at her. "You look a state."

"I'll clean up before we go," she replies dismissively. "It's only mud, Eugene, it washes."

"Off you run then," he says in a mild taunt. "Unless you want to shower in the rain on the walk back across town."

"We're leaving?" she questions.

"I have to, at least," he replies. "I only meant to visit for a while, I have things to do, believe it or not."

"Okay give me five minutes," she says, then rushes upstairs. No sooner has the bathroom door shut one floor up than Aya turns to Eugene and calmly, verbally stabs him.

"So are you going to ask her, or just think about it? The two aren't quite the same thing, Eugene."

Eugene looks exactly like he has been slapped.

"What do you... you can't... it's not like... who asked your opinion?" Eugene blusters, and Aya gives him a stern eyeballing. "Well you can't just... I mean... I'll do it when I'm good and ready."

"Ready for what?" Rapunzel asks from half-way down the stairs, and Eugene's tone jumps up a whole level of alarm.

"Nothing," he yelps. "Nothing at all. Look at the time we really better be going seeing as the time being what it is that is the time to be going. Goodbye everyone!" he garbles in an almost inaudible rush, then grabs Rapunzel by the mercifully-clean hand and more or less drags her out of the door.

"Hey! Hey," she cries. "What's all that about?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing at all," Eugene says with false enthusiasm and brightness, and then breaks off into muttering about the troubles of having a family again.

They're no more than half way to the castle when the predicted rain breaks, and before they can be soaked through they hole up underneath a shop front. Underdressed as usual, Rapunzel starts to shiver with the sudden drop in temperature, and Eugene soon pulls her back against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

"Today was fun," she remarks, pressing against him, displaying her unique ability to mould herself into him in any circumstance.

"Yeah," he agrees, and then is quiet for a while as thoughts overrun in his head.

"Eugene?" she questions curiously, looking over her shoulder at him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm just thinking," he replies tonelessly, then suddenly adds, "Francis might become a lawyer."

"What?" she gasps. "Really? How?"

"Judge Gabel wants him to take some exams, if he passes it's the first step to becoming a lawyer." He can feel her energy just by holding her; Rapunzel almost bounces out of his hands as she claps her hands together.

"Really! That's so great! Why didn't he _say _anything?" she rushes. "Can't we go back now and-" she begins, but Eugene reels her back in before she can run away with herself.

"He wasn't sure," he explains calmly. "He wanted to talk to me about it. He was scared."

"Scared?" she questions. "Of what?"

"Not being good enough," he answers. "Of failing."

"Well, he shouldn't let that hold him back," she replies thoughtfully, settling again in his arms and leaning back, watching the rain pour down in front of them.

"That's what I told him," Eugene agrees, and although he's trying to talk about Francis, he finds it hard to separate what is being said from his own struggle.

"Exactly," she affirms. "If there's something he wants, he shouldn't wait for it, he should _run _and try to get it without looking back. There's no point sitting on the inside, looking out and waiting for something to happen to you, being too afraid to take the first step. _Nothing_ is worse than that," she says quietly; he knows she speaks from the heart, and holds her tighter.

"You're right," he murmurs, and thinks of the package in his pocket. "You're right," he says more firmly, and then straightens up and pushes her a step forwards.

"Eugene?" she questions, turning around to face him just as he pulls out a velvet-wrapped bundle and then drops down on one knee.

"Rapunzel," he starts, going over the words he's rehearsed in his mirror in a hundred different ways, "will you marry me?"

Rather than the more traditional words, Rapunzel's answer instead involves screaming and then throwing her arms around his neck, which – taking the difference in height and his being down on one knee into consideration – causes the two of them to roll to the wet and muddy floor.

"YESYESyesyesyes!" she squeals as Eugene struggles to do anything but flail helplessly underneath her, and finds being kissed everywhere her mouth can reach seriously distracting. He hopes that it won't be a surprise to her parents – he attempted to subtly inform them by asking the Queen for help concerning the size of the ring, which was hopefully enough to insure they won't be too shocked. If the King or his wife had a serious problem, they probably would have done something about it before now.

So he picks himself up off the floor, hauling Rapunzel up with him, and presents her with the package that she quite forgot about while she was busy tackling him.

"There's more," he adds, and lets her unwrap the ring; he erred on the side of simple, nothing fancier than a gold band with a single diamond. Purchased, not stolen, he might add. As she slides it onto her finger, he swears she's almost crying, then with a smile she launches at him again – he's prepared enough to catch her this time, locking into a deep, soul-consuming kiss.

"We have to tell mom and dad!" she rushes when they finally part, and clamps his hand in her own. "Come on!"

"What _now_?" he questions, looking out at the still-torrential rain. Rapunzel's expression does not so much as flicker.

"Why wait?" she states, and he knows she's right; waiting _is_ pointless. Whatever happens, they will deal with it.

Eugene knows that no matter what their troubles are, no matter how hard it gets or _what _crazy things crop up, he loves her and wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He knows that he'll lay his life down for Rapunzel again and again, that he owes more to this crazy, quirky girl than anyone else in the world.

So when he realised, he really couldn't wait another second longer – because even if the future is uncertain, they have the present and they have each other – not to mention families and friends. Eugene looks into her eyes, practically glowing with excitement, and then out into the rainstorm.

"No time like the present," he remarks, and then hand in hand, they sprint out into the rain. By the time they arrive at the castle gates, they're absolutely soaking wet, exhausted and still laughing. Neither the King nor Queen need to look at their daughter's hand to guess what has occurred.

That night, the whole Kingdom celebrates.

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><p><em>The End.<em>

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><p>Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I mean. No, I do mean <em>squeeeeee!<em>

So I'm a massive sucker for happy endings, as you can all see. I didn't actually intend half of that stuff about Francis becoming a lawyer or Eugene even popping the question, it just happened all of a sudden. Goddam romantic/fulfilling Disney endings.

This story has been an absolute pleasure to write and I've loved every update and found the fandom absolutely wonderful. My thanks to everyone who has read all the way to the end and I honestly hope you enjoyed it.

Now... the good news. The good news is that I've already started work on an unrelated Tangled one-shot, and more importantly another chaptered Eugene/Rapunzel story. It's not a sequel, but it will be of the same 'universe' as this one. So if you'd like to add me to your author alert, you'll get updates of all my new Tangled fanfic as it hits the press. (And leave a review for old time's sake ;P)

I WILL SEE YOU ALL SOON IN ANOTHER FANFIC.

LOVE, FEAR

XXX


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